


Keep Talking

by Sara_Ellison



Series: Dhhaol [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Demisexuality, F/M, M/M, Marriage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Polyamory, Power Imbalance, Pregnancy, Prostitution, Racism, Romulans, Self-Harm, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sara_Ellison/pseuds/Sara_Ellison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One might think that Nero was not an easy man to love. One would be wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel of sorts to "Behind His Eyes."

I was a force to be reckoned with, or so I saw myself, that first day when I boarded the ship for the first time, full of piss and vinegar, the ink still wet on my trade school diploma. I was hand-picked from a pool of applicants, the best of the best, so I saw myself, and who would tell me otherwise? Certainly not the crew; I ruled over them, all save one, and it was he who'd selected me. I was young and strong; I was no soldier, but I was tough. So I saw myself.

I cried that first night, when the captain took me with no preparation, roughly, the two of us jammed together in his bunk. As first mate, I would not share quarters with the crew, but a mining vessel had no luxurious staterooms, and the captain's modest cabin with its narrow cot was the most comfort available. He did not speak as he pulled me down into his bed, as he pushed my legs apart and drove into me. He grunted and gasped, but no word passed his lips, not as his hand wrung a desperate, shaking orgasm from me, then a second before he finished. Finally, as he spilled within me, he breathed a single name, barely audible. Mine.

His touches turned soft, then; I couldn't move, my face pressed into his sheets, and he pulled at my limbs with gentle hands to turn me over and kissed my face until my tears stopped. He had the lips of a lover, when they were pressed to mine, and my arms found their strength again as they encircled his body.

"You never asked me to stop," he murmured. "Why, Ayel?"

"I had no reason to," I said. "You are my captain, and I serve you. As your first mate, I would tell you if your judgment were in any way faulty. It was not."

He shook his head, his hair brushing my forehead. "Out there, yes. In here, I serve your needs as much as you serve mine."

I caught his hand as it idly stroked my skin, lifting it before his eyes. The evidence of my release was still smeared between his fingers. "You served my needs, Captain. Twice."

He grinned, then kissed my fingers where they held his. "That I did," he agreed, then sobered. "Still, I hurt you. For that, I am sorry." He reached above my head toward a shelf built into the bulkhead; my gaze did not follow his hand, but after a moment of fumbling he retrieved a tube of numbing salve.

The first touch between my cheeks made me cry out in pain, as his finger touched torn flesh, but in mere moments the salve took effect, and the pain drained away like sand through a sieve. He withdrew his hand to spread more salve on his finger; I saw it smeared with his seed and my blood in the moment before he slipped it back inside me. I moaned in relief, closing my eyes; the absence of pain was exquisite pleasure. My one regret was that, numbed as I was, I could no longer feel his seed as it leaked out of me.

Oren inserted a tissue regenerator, then, pulling back the covers to watch his work; his finger was as numb as my hole, and he could not check my condition by feel alone. After a few minutes' work, he pronounced me as good as new, punctuating his statement with a soft, open-mouthed kiss to my exhausted cock.

I whimpered even as the organ twitched with interest. "Please, Oren," I begged. "Tomorrow. Or later tonight, at the very least."

He nodded, moving back up my body to lie alongside me, one leg between mine, his erection pressed against my hip, demanding nothing. He tucked an arm around my waist; the finger he'd used for the salve left a cool spot of numbness against my ribs. "Very well, Ayel," he said, his voice already thick with drowsiness. "I hope you'll forgive me, if I dream of you tonight and spill my seed on your skin." He rolled his hips against me, once, slowly, merely emphasizing his meaning; then he subsided, his breath deepening into a quiet snore.


	2. Chapter 2

Oren had not come in his sleep, and was as hard as ever when we woke. I offered my mouth or my arse, but he merely smiled. "We mustn't be late," he said. "What kind of message would that send to the crew?" He buttoned his trousers over his swollen cock, forcing it into confinement. It looked painful, and obvious.

I strode a few paces ahead of him to the command deck, my steps ringing on the metal flooring. "Captain on the bridge!" I barked, though no one could have missed our approach. The second officer leaped from the captain's chair and saluted Oren, holding his fist against his chest until Oren dismissed him with a nod and an amused twitch of his lips.

I caught more than a few eyes flickering toward our captain's groin, his contained arousal unmistakable. Then lips began to move, soft murmurs and whispers passing between neighboring crewmen, none loud enough to reach my ears, though I could well imagine what they must be saying. _The new XO can't keep the captain satisfied. What good is he?_ Or perhaps, _Oren demanded more than Ayel could give._ Neither were true, but I could hardly defend either of us aloud. I sought out the whisperers and pinned them with a glare, one by one, until they quailed and returned to their work.

I wasn't sure when it happened; we had been on the bridge more than two hours. Oren had been in an incomparable mood, every order he gave snapped like a whip, insulting me aloud and pulling me in close to whisper praise. " _Dha'rudh_ ," he snarled, "have they fixed that anomaly in the gravpulse subharmonics yet?"

"Yes, sir," I replied. "Should be coming back online now."

"Good." He leaned toward me, his voice dropping to a murmur. "You beautiful man. I can't stop thinking about your mouth." A wicked grin crossed his features. "Oh, I do so enjoy seeing you blush."

"You may have my mouth whenever you wish, Captain," I whispered back.

"In due time." He sat back. "Go check on that _ryakna_ gravpulse generator. I want it singing by the time we make orbit."

It must have been some time in those minutes while I was on the engineering deck, or shortly after I returned and was conferring with the operations officer. He was young, slightly nervous; his eyes kept flickering over my shoulder in the captain's direction, until I snapped at him. "Have you been paying attention?"

"Yes, sir, I have!" he said hastily. "I'll adjust the expected yields for Tretin VII-Delta accordingly, sir."

I nodded, satisfied, and turned toward the center of the bridge. Oren was sprawled in his chair, the bulge between his legs replaced by a stain, still visibly damp. I turned back to the operations officer. "Have you been paying attention?" I asked again, my voice low.

He nodded. "The captain was pacing the length of the bridge," he said, his voice pitched so as to avoid being overheard. "He faltered in mid-stride, barely, and then returned to the chair."

My mouth was dry; glancing at Oren, I wet my lips with my tongue. I'd been picturing his hand, subtly rubbing his member through the cloth in whatever moments he was free from the gaze of the crew; but this was something else entirely. He'd come nearly untouched, the sheer desperate frustration driving him over the brink.

I went to his side, taking my own seat and adjusting my erection with one hand. He looked over at me with half-lidded eyes. "I did tell you I couldn't stop thinking about it," he drawled.

I was blushing hard enough to feel my pulse in the tips of my ears. "You would blame me for your loss of control, sir?" I dared ask.

He smirked. "What loss? This was my intention."

"To stain your pants and sit in your cooling spunk?" I raised an eyebrow. "Ah. You of course want me to clean you up."

His eyes darkened, and I marveled at his insatiability. "I knew there was a reason I chose you." He levered himself up out of his seat. "Calius, you have the bridge!"

"Yes, sir!" The second officer saluted again, waiting for me to follow Oren off the deck before he ascended to the command dais.

In his quarters, Oren pinned me to a bulkhead and plundered my mouth with his tongue, a thigh pressed between my legs, stimulating but unsatisfying. I gasped a protest as he pulled away too soon, drawing back toward his bunk. "You were right," he said, "cooling spunk on one's skin is not what I would call enjoyable."

I dropped to my knees in front of him, tugging open the front of his trousers. The semen was all over his groin. I sucked at the damp cloth, futilely, but the stain had set in and my efforts were in vain. I turned my attentions to his skin instead, tonguing the salty, earthy flavor of him from the crease of his thigh.

He was moaning by the time I'd cleaned his thighs and the hair framing the base of his cock; I received a long groan and a hand in my hair as reward as I sucked his balls into my mouth, gently rolling them on my tongue. There was not as much come to be licked up here, but I took pride in drawing those sounds from Oren's lips.

"Ayel," he said, and his voice was half plea, half warning. His hand tightened, pulling my hair just hard enough to hurt.

I let his balls slip from my mouth, bringing a hand up to hold his shaft as I began to lick it clean at last, my tongue sweeping firm and thorough strokes up his length before I pulled the head into my mouth and suckled at it. Fresh precome mingled with the older traces I licked from his skin. My other hand dropped between my legs, palming my cock through thick fabric.

"No," Oren said, giving my hair another painful tug. "Your hand. Give it to me." He relaxed his grip on my hair, petting to soothe the sting in my scalp. Obediently, I lifted the hand not wrapped around his cock, and he clasped my fingers with his. "Do you trust me, Ayel?"

I was unwilling to stop sucking him to answer, not when the flavor of his lust was coating my tongue in hot pulses. The sound I made, muffled into his flesh, I hoped would convey the enthusiasm of my assent. Of course I trusted my captain.

He let his head fall back, then, his lips parted, still holding my hand. Every breath was a soft moan, a gasp, _Ah!_ Each beat of my heart accompanied a pull of my tongue, a flex of my fingers against his, wishing I could stroke my aching arousal and share in Oren's imminent release. His gasps began to devolve into words, curses and oaths and _Yes_ and _Ayel_ and _Thlhom_. That last was my favorite, and I hummed my pleasure around him as he cried out in release.

I had never seen a man in the aftermath of orgasm move as fast as Oren; he was on me like a stooping hawk before I had a chance to swallow, his tongue thrusting between my lips. He opened my mouth, a hand at my jaw, and took back what he'd given me, sharing my mouthful of his seed between us.

The look in his eyes when he pulled back sent a delightful shudder up my spine. "Oh, I chose right," he said lowly. "You are perfect." 

I flushed, gratified, and covered his hand on my jaw with my own, our other hands still intertwined. Between my legs, my cock ached, demanding release, but I made no more move towards satisfying myself, not without Oren's permission.

"Good," he breathed, soft blatant praise. "Good, Ayel. Tell me, now, how do you want to come?"

"My own hand would be enough," I admitted. I was riding so high already that it shouldn't take more than a few pulls, if he would keep holding my other hand.

"You misunderstand me," Oren said. "If you could have anything, anyone you wanted, how would you like to slake your lust?"

Comprehension dawned. "You want to know my fantasies," I said.

"I want _you_ to know your fantasies," he replied. "I want you to go back out to the bridge and work the rest of our shift with your cock like duranium, thinking about bending me over the console and fucking me, or having me suck you off in the captain's chair, or—anything you want. It doesn't have to be me. Another man, a woman, whatever you think about in the privacy of your own thoughts when it's just you and your hand in the darkness.

"And I want you to come. On the bridge, in public, in front of the crew, without touching yourself again. You'll shoot off in your pants just from thinking about whatever filthy fantasy gets your engine humming, just like I did."

I shut my eyes, resting my forehead against his. "Just like you did, from thinking about my mouth?" I murmured. "Was that your great fantasy? I hope the reality lived up to your expectation."

He chuckled, low and dirty. "Have no fear on that score, Ayel. I don't imagine you could ever disappoint me." He kissed me, a gentle, sucking tease of a kiss that left me moaning in frustration, my hands unconsciously squeezing his until he gasped.

"Sorry," I muttered, releasing him.

"No," he said. "Do not be. I love that I can make you lose control like this." He rose to his feet, refastening his trousers. "Back to work, now. We have a ship to run."


	3. Chapter 3

It took a long time. I couldn't put all my mental efforts toward pleasurable fantasy; I had to pay attention to the crew, and the ship, and it seemed like every few minutes there was some minor crisis that demanded my personal attention. Still, I kept my promise to Oren, and kept myself thoroughly worked up throughout the day. He had warned me not to let my erection wilt until I'd climaxed, and I found it no challenge; if ever my mind were in danger of wandering away from thoughts of the erotic, I only had to lock eyes with Oren across the bridge. There was a smouldering heat in his gaze, a constant reminder of what he expected from me and the threat he hadn't needed to voice should I fail, as well as quietly satisfied desire—the knowledge that he could have what he wanted whenever he liked. And he wanted me.

I thought at first of the previous night, when he'd pounded into me, the dry tug of his skin, friction pulling at my hole with every thrust. It had hurt, yes, but it did not end with pain; it had been a relentless overstimulation of every nerve ending, and the orgasms he'd won from me were sharp and vicious.

What would it be like, I wondered, if he were to make love to me instead of brutally fucking? I tried to imagine it, the tenderness he displayed in the aftermath of his orgasm transferred to the actions that brought him there. He would open me up with gentle fingers, slippery with lube, or...my eyes moved to his hands. I could suck his fingers, wetting them thoroughly with my own saliva before he breached me with them. In my mind's eye, his breath caught as I curled my tongue around his digits, caressing his knuckles, teasing at the webbing between his thumb and palm until he moaned. My mouth was watering, and I swallowed hard.

My instinct was to look away, try to focus on something less arousing—I was in public, I was working, I had things to do! But Oren had given me this challenge, to frustrate myself to the point of release, and I so badly wanted his fingers in my mouth. I wanted them in my arse, teasing me, driving me insane with twists and little jabbing thrusts, stroking against my prostate and stretching my hole. I clenched on nothing, wanting, aching. The cloth of my trousers stuck to my cock as I moved, damp with precome. Oren's fingers, long and beautiful and strong, would not be enough. Before long I would need his thick cock in my arse, and knowing him as I was beginning to, he would make me beg for it, teasing me relentlessly before he finally gave in to my pleas.

We would be face-to-face. I'd be on my back in his bed, he on top of me with the covers tangled around us both. He would hold my hips with both hands as he pushed into me, slowly, struggling to contain his lust for the sake of my comfort. When, finally, he would be fully sheathed within me, he would kiss me, soft presses of lips all over my face between his trembling breaths until I seized his head in my hands and claimed his mouth.

These kisses would not be the desperate, clashing war of tongues that we had fought earlier when he had me against the bulkhead. He would make love with his mouth in concert with his cock, in slow gentle strokes and thrusts, guiding rather than forcing me to heights of pleasure. He would kiss with his eyes closed, but as his orgasm approached, he would open them, his gaze locking with mine, brown eyes wide and shining. I would be able to see myself reflected in his pupils, and he in mine, dilated with pleasure. When his pleasure peaked, he would whisper my name, his eyes still open as he emptied himself within me so that I could see everything he felt in that moment.

Across the bridge, Oren met my eyes, steady and unwavering. I felt a tug, clenching deep inside, from the pit of my stomach right down into my balls, and then I was spurting, pulsing, trying desperately not to make a sound as I shot my seed into the unfortunate cloth barrier of my pants.

Oren was at my side. "Well done," he murmured, too soft for anyone else to hear. "And perfectly timed."

He was right, to my astonishment. The day was over; it had, in fact, taken me nearly the whole shift to work myself up past the point of endurance. The rest of the alpha shift crew headed to the mess for supper; Oren, with a casually possessive hand on my shoulder, guided me back to his quarters. There was a replicator there, if we should get hungry, but we both had other appetites.

Oren laid me down on his bunk and stripped me, methodically, one piece of clothing at a time, running his hands over each stretch of skin as it was exposed. He left my trousers for last, carefully peeling them off, leaving behind smears of my come, not yet cold enough to be uncomfortable.

" _Fvadt_ ," he murmured, staring down at me. He ran his fingertips over the crease of my thigh, trailing through the mess. It was more copious than I'd realized; he flattened his palm over my groin, smearing it into my skin. "I'm impressed, Ayel," he said. "Well worth a day's work." He kept rubbing, as though my seed were lotion, imbuing me with my own essence. "What did you think of to produce all this?"

I hesitated, my lips half-parted around the words. I could not quite manage to say the words _making love_ aloud to him. Perhaps if the circumstances had been different; I could almost imagine it, if he had been naked as well, in bed beside me, our arms around each other—but now he was fully clothed, leaning over me with his hand spread over my crotch, and I couldn't bear to admit it. "You planted a seed of fantasy in my mind, before we returned to the bridge," I reminded him instead. "Fucking you over a console in front of the crew. I thought of that. How hot you would be, bent over while I p-pounded your arse..." My voice slipped, too far out of character to remain steady, and I prayed he wouldn't notice.

He did, his hand stilling. "Just that? You thought about that for nearly seven hours? You're lying," he said quietly. Slowly, he began pulling off his own clothing.

I shut my eyes. "I am lying, Captain," I confessed. I didn't have the nerve to look at him. "Will you punish me for it?" I thought of him spanking me, abusing my arse with his hand, then his cock; I wanted it, and my own cock twitched, but he wasn't touching me anymore.

"No," he said absently. "I want to know why. You said you trust me."

"I do!" I said, my eyes snapping open. "Oren, if I didn't trust you—"

"You wouldn't tell me what really gets you off? You think I would shame you for your pleasure?" Fully undressed now, he lay down beside me, his body touching mine but not enveloping, and pulled the covers over us both. I wasn't sure what he wanted; he was hard, I could feel it, but he made no move to pursue his pleasure and it was early yet to simply go to sleep. "Ayel, I want to know your fantasies so I can help you live them. Not to pass judgment."

"Why?" I asked. "Why do you want to make my fantasies come true? What have I done to earn that from you?"

He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. "You don't _have_ to earn it! I want to. Do I need a reason?" He slipped an arm over my midsection, loosely curling around my waist. "Whatever your filthy fetish or secret kink, if it makes you spill _that_ much in your pants, I want to do it with you." He paused. "Is it _hnaev_? It's all right if it is. Perhaps not in this bed, but we can—"

"No!" I said quickly. "Not that."

"Then what? Why are you so reluctant to tell me, Ayel?" His voice was gentle, not prodding, but still persistent. "Was it somebody else you dreamed of being with? I told you, it's all right if it is."

"No, it was you," I told him. I glanced at him, considering the truth. I tried it in my head. _I want you sweet and gentle and caring and loving._ I blushed even to think it. "I don't fear your judgment," I mumbled. "I judge myself for it, and that's enough."

"If I don't judge you, why should you?" he whispered. "Does my opinion matter so little to you? Please tell me what it is."

"I can't!" I got out, my voice thick. I pulled away from him, curling in on myself. Tears gathered, hot, at the corners of my eyes. "Can you just—please, can we just fuck, if you want to fuck me, and we can both forget about this?"

"No," he said gently. He didn't reach to touch me. "I won't forget, and I won't take my pleasure from you at the cost of your happiness."

"I'm not unhappy," I said, an obvious lie to both of us. "I just..." I turned back toward him, summoning the courage to meet his eyes. "I will tell you. Some day. I promise. I'm just not ready, not now."

"Very well," Oren agreed. He hesitated, then asked, "May I kiss you?"

I crushed my mouth to his, fiercely, painfully. He let me, wrapping his arms around me softly, holding me as I clung to him. "Please," I gasped, my lips against his. "Please fuck me."

"It's okay," he said, and tightened his grip. "I've got you, Ayel." He pushed me onto my back, rolling on top of me, pushing his hips against mine, making me gasp. "Just like this," he murmured. "All right?"

I nodded, my fingernails digging into his shoulderblades. "Yes," I moaned, tucking my face in against his neck. "Like this."

Oren groaned. "Ayel, there's something I should tell you." He rolled his hips, his cock rubbing against mine. " _Fuck_. I lied to you, too, about my fantasy."

"What?" His words didn't make sense in my mind. My pelvis hitched up against his body; I needed that friction.

"I told you I was thinking about your mouth," he said. "Don't misunderstand. You were fantastic this morning. As much as I loved your mouth on my cock, though, there's something else I want you to do with it."

"Anything," I said, though I couldn't imagine what he could want from my mouth that wasn't kissing or sucking.

He dropped his head, his face against my shoulder. "Here," he mumbled. "I want to feel your teeth."

I gasped, partly in shock, partly in pleasure as his cock dragged against mine, slickness between us easing the slide. "You want me to..." I lowered my voice, even though we were the only ones to hear. "... _bite_ you?" My lips brushed his neck, skin taut beneath his ear.

"I want you to," he said. "You don't have to."

My heart was pounding. Tentatively, I opened my lips and scraped my teeth against the side of his neck. I tasted the salt of his sweat.

" _Bite_ me," Oren said. " _Fvadt_."

I bit down, closing my teeth over a tendon, feeling like a deviant. Oren's gasp of pleasure gave me courage. "Yes," he moaned. "Harder. Leave a mark, Ayel." I worried at the skin under my mouth, bringing blood to the surface, darkening it into a deep coppery bruise.

He was trembling finely, and I pulled back to look at the mark I'd made. My heart threatened to burst out of my chest, it was beating so hard, and every muscle in my body was tensed. I dared to nip at him again, teeth catching right where I'd bitten already, and he shouted and came. A shudder rolled through me, head to toe, and I spurted against his belly, shaking all over.

"Gods," I breathed, when the tremors had stopped and I could speak again. "So that's your secret kink." I trailed a light fingertip along his neck, feeling him shiver. "I won't tell anyone."

He looked at me, something inscrutable in his eyes, and smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Oren woke me with kisses, gentle and warm, his arms firm around my body. I stretched in his embrace, blinking awake. "Morning," I mumbled. "Timeisit?"

"Early yet," he told me. "We have time for a long shower...which I'm afraid we both need." He dragged a thumb over my belly. My skin was tight with dried come, and I grimaced.

"I thought you liked it rubbed into my skin," I murmured.

He shrugged, a fluid motion. "I did. Now I want you bare of even that." He made hygiene sound filthy, deliciously so.

"When you put it like that." I sat up, moving to stand, and caught sight of the side of his neck.

"Ayel?" He sat up as well, reaching for me. I felt cold all over, my stomach churning as memories of last night flooded back. "Ayel, you've gone white. What's wrong?"

I tried to speak, and found no words. I lifted a shaking hand toward his neck and touched the horrible bruise, the marks of my teeth clear in his skin. He hissed in pain at the touch, then grinned, something feral. I didn't understand how he could smile, when I had done _that_. My voice emerged thin and reedy. "T-tissue regenerator. The one you used on me last night. Where is it?" I sounded panicked to my own ears.

He caught my hands in both of his and kissed them. "Oh, no, _a'rhea_. This is one battle wound I'll wear with pride."

" _How can you say that?_ " I fought to control my voice; it had gone high, and too loud. "How can you—oh, gods, how can you look at me after I—I..." I snatched my hands back, clapping them over my mouth. I felt sick.

"After you what, Ayel?" he asked. His voice was soft but strong, like his grip on my shoulders. "You did what I asked. Did you not enjoy it?" A frown creased his features. "Was I so absorbed in my own selfish pleasure that I only imagined your release?"

I shook my head, tears of shame searing my eyes. "I came," I whispered. "You didn't imagine it." That made it worse.

"So what troubles you?" he asked. "Surely a love bite is not—"

I let my hands drop. "A _love bite_?" I repeated, incredulous. "Oren, that's not a _love bite_ , whatever that is—"

"It's what humans call it," he said.

"That's a _klivam_ mating mark! Forget humans, we're Rihannsu, we don't _mate_ like Klingons! We fuck, we make love, we don't mate..." I trailed off.

Oren sighed. "Ayel. I _asked_ for this. There is no blame that falls on you, nothing for which you ought to castigate yourself. And I certainly will not. Whose judgment do you fear?"

I dropped my hands, staring at him in disbelief. Acts performed in the dark, under the haze and madness of lust, were one thing, but he was able to defend this, defend _me_ , in the cold light of morning. Was he mad? Did he not understand the taboo we—I had broken? "My own," I said at last, "And the rest of the crew, and every other sane Romulan who is not as filthy a deviant as I am."

His face darkened. "And what does that make me, if I asked you to bite me?" His grip on my upper arms tightened, a warning. "Choose your next words carefully, Commander."

It was a cold reminder: I was his subordinate, I was questioning the orders he had given me and questioning his very character for giving them. I took an unsteady breath. "Captain, I have been insubordinate and must be disciplined."

He nodded. "You will be. Choose a safeword. First, though, I must make you understand. You object to what we have done because you perceive it as a Klingon act, correct?"

I nodded. "It's Klingon, it's...primitive, it's animalistic. We're better than that, or we should be. Civilized Romulans don't bite each other."

"Why not? There was no harm done. If I enjoy being bitten, and you enjoy biting me—and you _did_ enjoy it, I remind you—then why the hell shouldn't we do it?"

"No harm?" I stared at him. The mark on his neck was impossible to ignore. "You could have been mauled by a wild _sseikea_ and come out looking better."

"You exaggerate," he said, narrowing his eyes. "This taboo comes from racial prejudice, Ayel, and you know it. You ought to be better than that."

I lifted my head, defiant. "It's not prejudice. I waited until I had personal experience with Klingons before I formed my opinion of them. They're boorish, smelly, loud, violent, sloppy drunks. I've never met a one who hasn't embodied all the worst stereotypes of his species, so don't tell me to behave like a _klivam_ and not judge myself for it!"

He yanked my arm suddenly, hauling me off-balance. I found myself sprawled across his lap. "What's your safeword, Ayel?" he growled.

I took a deep breath and exhaled, " _Maehhis_."

For a long moment, he did nothing. The tension in his body, the tightness I could feel in the muscles of his thighs, was dissipating. "That's not what safewording is, Ayel," he said softly.

"That's what _my_ safeword is," I shot back. My throat felt thick. I braced myself for the first blow.

He did not disappoint. The slap of his palm rang through the room, stinging my arse and jolting me against his stiffening cock. His hand remained there a moment, rubbing and squeezing my buttock, not quite soothing the sting. I whimpered, and he struck again. My own cock was hardening against his thigh, unexpectedly, as he caressed where he'd hit me. The sound that emerged from my throat then was more like a moan.

"I'm sorry, Captain," I got out. "I'm sorry."

"You are," he agreed. I could feel his cock throbbing against my hip, slight friction as each blow rocked me against him, insufficient for any real stimulation.

"Please," I whined, unsure what I was asking.

"You want to stop? You think you've had enough, so soon?" His tone was mocking, and he did not relent; if anything, his blows grew harder. I gasped, my cock beginning to weep slick fluid against his skin even as tears leaked from my eyes. "I will decide when you've had enough, Ayel."

"Yes, Captain." My arse had to be glowing, it felt so flushed; I felt each blow radiate across my skin, no matter which cheek he struck. My breath came in harsh pants, and I felt like I would die as each gasp of air was punctuated by another strike of his hand. His palm must have been smarting as well, but he continued doling out the punishment I needed.

My balls felt like trilithium, dense and hard and about to explode, dangerously volatile. My cries with each blow of his hand were growing desperate. I wondered what Oren would do if I simply gave up and spilled my seed on his thigh; would I earn punishment or praise?

He was speaking, and it took monumental effort to focus on his words when my backside was on fire. "Good, Ayel," he was saying. "You take it so well. You're beautiful like this, so beautiful, my Ayel."

I moaned, unable to form a more coherent response, too lost in pleasure and pain. He seemed to realize suddenly how close I was, and stopped abruptly, mid-blow. "Gods, Ayel!" he uttered, and then his hands were on my waist, gripping me, maneuvering me. He lay back and I found myself astride him, my thighs trembling to keep me upright.

He held me by the hip, stilling me with one hand, steadying himself with the other as he thrust up, breaching me. He stopped, then, buried halfway inside me. His breathing was fast, uneven, and it took him two tries before he could speak. "Ride me, Ayel."

I sobbed, or moaned—I wasn't sure what to call the sound ripped from my throat as I impaled myself on his cock, the skin of my arse smarting as it struck his hips. Oren cried out, then, unmistakably close, and I redoubled my efforts, biting my lip to hold back what surely would have been screams, the sensation overwhelming.

"Ayel!" His back arched, head thrown back as he came, thrusting instinctively, and I sobbed in relief as my own climax swept through me. I shook uncontrollably, my muscles giving out as my essence flowed from me.

I must have blacked out; I found myself lying on my side, Oren's arms wrapped around me. He was kissing my face, murmuring my name interspersed with words of praise. I shifted, seeking his mouth with my own, and he obliged me, our lips meeting in a soft but thorough kiss.

I opened my eyes as he pulled back. "Was I good, Captain?" I murmured.

"You were," he whispered back. "So good, Ayel. I forgive you. Now forgive yourself."

I could do that, yes. He had punished me, and I could move on. "Yes, sir."

Oren's smile was blinding. He stroked me like a pet, his touch lightening at the base of my spine, feather-light fingertips over my arse. Despite his care, I couldn't hold back a hiss of pain, and he reached for the numbing salve before I caught his wrist.

"I'll do without," I said. "What's the point of a spanking if you erase all reminder of it?"

He seemed to consider for a moment before subsiding, cupping his hand around the back of my neck instead. "You continue to surprise me," he said.

"Is that a good thing?" I asked.

He answered with a kiss, a clear enough answer and firm enough in its intent that I felt my blood heat once again. Oren chuckled low in his throat as he felt my cock stir against his thigh. He broke the kiss, barely, his lips dragging against mine as he spoke. "So, now you know my filthy fetish. Will you tell me yours? I still want to know what fantasy drives you wild. Are you more comfortable telling me, now that you have condemned me for mine?"

I winced and shook my head. "Now less than ever," I told him.

He nodded, accepting and sobered, and changed the subject. "How's your hole? I took you dry, again. I hope I didn't hurt you too badly."

I felt my eyebrows climb in surprise. "Dry? Oren, your cock was about as dry as a spring day on Ferenginar. You were leaking enough to lubricate my hole for days to come." I grinned. "I think you could have come just from spanking me, couldn't you?"

His cheekbones were flushed a faint green. "Possibly," he muttered. "Do you want to give me cause to find out?"

"Perhaps not just now," I answered. I suspected he already knew what I wasn't saying, the other side of the coin—I had been ready to come just from being spanked. Someday, maybe, it would merit further experimentation. Now, we had sonic showers to take and a duty shift to attend.


	5. Chapter 5

I had considered asking Oren to cover the bite mark somehow, with makeup or a high-collared tunic, but had bitten my tongue, suspecting he would not appreciate the request. On the bridge, the whispers were louder and more numerous than the previous morning as eyes caught the copper-brown bruise. My glare was as though I held a disruptor; each crewman on whom I trained my sights suddenly stilled and quieted as they realized they were being targeted.

I was the picture of steely resolve, imperturbable. Internally, though, my doubts roiled. What must they think of me now? Yesterday I was the XO who had let my captain leave his bed unsatisfied; today, I was the freak who had bitten him like an animal and been duly punished for it—for I was sure it did not escape their notice that I eschewed my usual seat in favor of standing. When Oren at last barked at me to sit down, a muffled snicker rolled around the bridge before I had time to quell it.

I cursed them silently. None of them could see what was really going on—rather, none of them _noticed_. Yes, Oren had a bite mark and I had a sore arse, but at least the captain wasn't sitting in his command chair with a raging erection! Yesterday, they had condemned me for not satisfying Oren's needs; today, they didn't even bother to notice that I had.

As we dropped out of warp in the Tretin system, Oren reached over and took my hand. I stifled a gasp. The attention of each crewmember was on his or her assigned task; no one saw Oren's silent gesture of intimacy until _Narada_ had achieved a stable orbit around the rocky, ore-rich satellite. Calius was the first to glance up, reporting our status to the captain; he stumbled slightly over his words, doing a double-take at our joined hands. His faltering drew the attention of the other bridge crew. None of them whispered now; they stared in quiet confusion. I suppressed a smile. They would not understand; let them wonder.

Oren's palm was throbbing against mine. I realized with a silent thrill that it was the hand he'd spanked me with, still smarting from the blows. I squeezed, ever so slightly, and was rewarded: a hitch in his breath, imperceptible to anyone who wasn't specifically listening for it, and a hard but quick squeeze in return, quelling. More rewards were to come later that night.

The drilling would take a few days; we would remain parked in geosynchronous orbit during that time. It was hard work and busy, and Oren and I found little time to ourselves, between overseeing the ore collection and plotting the course for the next leg of our journey. One afternoon, we found a few brief moments, a rest from the constant pressure, as we inspected the drill chamber. It was a cavernous space now, with the drill extended into the atmosphere; usually, the emptiness within was taken up by the bulk of machinery.

We stood together, looking over the rail at the long shaft of the drill. The air hummed with energy, a deep rhythmic hum just barely audible. Oren's hand found mine on the rail.

"We speak of _Narada_ as though she were feminine," Oren commented.

"As all ships," I agreed. "The ship is our mother and our wife. We live safe within her womb, and we devote our lives to her."

"Feminine, and yet she fucks these planets with her great big throbbing cock," he pointed out, a jerk of his head indicating the drill. "Feminine, but male."

I shook my head. "Fuck she may, but she does not impregnate. We take ore; we leave nothing behind, no seed to grow into anything more."

He growled, low, almost imperceptible above the drill. "Like us. I may plant my seed in you time and again, and nothing grows." He moved behind me, arms sliding about my waist, pulling me back against him.

I liked to pretend that was true. He let me let his words go unchallenged as he unfastened my trousers, letting them slip down to my ankles. "Are you hard for _Narada_?" I asked him, a teasing lilt to my voice. "Or for her throbbing cock? Or perhaps for the planet? You'd like to be her, fucking great holes in the rocky crust."

"What if I told you—" He thrust a couple fingers into me, spit-slick. "—I like the raw, pulsing power?" He drew gasps from me with jabs against my prostate. "What would you say to that?" He caught my earlobe between his lips, sucking on it briefly before licking up to the point of my ear. "Would you tell me then what makes _your_ blood burn?"

"You do," I gasped, spreading my legs wider as the head of his cock nudged at my entrance.

"You know what I mean," he said, his hands gripping my hips as he pushed into me. "Your fantasy, Ayel. Your dark secret for which you are deluded enough to think I could possibly judge you." He soothed the sting of his words by catching my chin in his hands and turning my head to kiss me.

How could I tell him that I wanted his tender caresses, when he was fucking me over the rail above a shaft of energy piercing a planet? Every hour I spent with him made me less able to imagine spending one without him. I was falling, hard.

This was dangerous. I saw my own peril like the edge of a cliff before me, and was entirely unwilling to apply the brakes. Oren was pounding into me, now, thrusting in steady rhythm with the pulse of energy from the drill. I rocked back against him in my lust, trying to increase his pace, but he was unrelenting even as my pleasure crested and I spurted my release down the shaft of the drill. I gasped aloud, half-formed words falling from my lips, and Oren moaned in reply, spilling within me.

He knew what grew when he planted his seed in me. Perhaps we were both only pretending.

*****

Some weeks later, upon returning to our quarters one evening, I found a subspace message waiting for me. It had been sent a few hours earlier and was marked low urgency, so I had not been notified during my shift. I played the recording.

A woman appeared, smiling broadly. " _H'yhaa, Ayel! I heard your ship will be coming back to ch'Rihan soon. I'm taking you out to dinner the moment you set foot planetside, so don't you dare make other plans. I won't take no for an answer. No excuses, Ayel. I must have you tell me everything. What's it like, working with that crew? Is your captain cruel or kind? Is he the type who_ —" She paused suddenly, glancing back over her shoulder. " _Oh, they're closing the library soon, I have to go. I'll see you soon, and don't forget—no excuses! I'll get you drunk enough to tell me everything, and you'll have a year of leave to get over the hangover_." She giggled, then made a kissing sound. " _Love you, dianvm_."

"She's beautiful." I jumped; Oren had come in behind me, and I wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, watching the message along with me. "Who is she?"

I found myself blushing, unaccountably; there had been nothing personal in the message, but I still felt, somehow, like he had seen too much of me. "Her name is Mandana," I muttered.

"She called you _dianvm_ , but she doesn't resemble you," Oren said.

"Yes," I agreed, belatedly realizing it was a question. "We grew up together, close enough to be brother and sister, but we share no blood."

He nodded, absorbing the information, and said again, "She's beautiful." He sat on the edge of our bunk and began pulling off his boots.

"Yes," I said again, because she was, undeniably. I had never had romantic interest in her, but I wasn't blind either.

Oren was frowning as he lay back on the bunk, his pants still on. "I wish sometimes—" he began, then seemed to think better of it.

"What?" I stood and began to undress as well, stripping nude before lying down beside him. I was half-hard out of habit, but he made no move to touch me.

"That Melhaes had died a few years earlier," he said, his voice harsh.

I was stunned. Why would he wish such a thing? If my predecessor had had his tragic accident while I was still in school, Oren would have replaced him with someone other than me and we would never have met. I couldn't think of any reply; I felt like I was choking on my lack of words, thick in my throat like bile. I sat up and grabbed my pants again, pulling them back on and lying down on my side, my back to Oren.

"Onboard romances end when the ship makes port," Oren said. He sounded as cold as I felt. "The crew has a year apart in which to...forget each other."

I shut my eyes, wishing I could shut my ears as well.

"We're going to have longer apart than we had together," Oren pointed out, then made a strange sound, almost like a laugh. "We'll be as strangers when we meet again next year."

I would have thought we could keep in contact with each other during that year. I would have thought, before this conversation, that we could have spent our leave together. How foolish was I, to think he might want that. That he might care for me, have feelings for me beyond mere physical desire. I realized he was still waiting for a reply. I could barely speak around the lump in my throat, but I managed a whispered, "Yes," before silent sobs choked me. I buried my face in my pillow so he wouldn't see. After a moment, he pulled the covers over us both and turned out the light.


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning, I did not meet Oren's eyes. He made no effort to draw my gaze, and we dressed in silence, showering separately, each moving around the other without acknowledging the avoidance. On the bridge, there were no insults, no praise; he gave orders when he needed to, and I followed. If the crew noticed anything, they said nothing within earshot—not on the bridge, at least. At midday meal, I chanced to overhear a junior engineer murmur to the second officer, "Soon it may be your turn."

"I hope this time isn't as messy as Melhaes," Calius replied, and they both laughed.

It took me some time to work out what they could be referring to. It would be Calius' turn for what? And what had Melhaes done that was so messy? All I knew of the man was that he had been first officer until his untimely death in a drilling accident.

Calius was the second officer. My blood ran cold. If I died, it would be his turn to serve as first officer—and they hoped my death would be less messy than my predecessor's. Why were they expecting me to die? Obviously, they could tell I was no longer in Oren's good graces. Were they expecting him to kill me? Were the crew going to kill me themselves for the crime of displeasing their captain?

And then there was the problem of Calius. By rights, he should have ascended to first officer when Melhaes died. Instead of promoting from within his own crew, though, Oren had sought external applications, and accepted mine. Fresh out of school, with plenty of knowledge but no experience. Why? What had he seen in me in that one brief holographic interview that had caused him to choose me? What quality was it that I had since lost, that made me now deserving of death?

One answer came to mind immediately. Melhaes had shared the captain's bed too, and when he had ceased to please Oren, he or the crew had disposed of a useless officer. Oren had desired me when I applied for the position, not because of any merit as an officer or a miner, but...he said he liked my mouth. _There was a reason I chose you_ , he had said, after I had pleased him physically, flattered his vanity. I had not earned such praise through my leadership or knowledge of my craft.

This was insane! I shook myself. I couldn't really be thinking that Oren was so shallow—that he would entrust his crew and his ship to a man based solely on his looks, or that he would kill a man for failing to please him! It was preposterous, unthinkable. I had to be misinterpreting Calius' words.

Then again, I had apparently misinterpreted every signal from Oren up until now, reading affection where there was none. I could assume nothing. I asked him, point-blank, that evening in his quarters. "Were you fucking Melhaes? Did you have him killed?"

"No, and no," he answered. "The crew thinks so. I know they do. But we were only ever friends, and his death was an accident. I mourn him still."

If I could not trust my captain's word, I would not long live to regret it. I accepted his answer.

We did not speak again that night, but Oren woke me, some time past midnight, with a hand down my pants and a press of his hips against my backside. I wriggled out of my pants and let him take me. He was rough, not so blind to my comfort as he had been our first night, but despite the care he took not to hurt me, it was clear he was seeking his own release, not mine. Nevertheless, my body was so trained to respond to his touch, and so desperate was I for any sign of affection from him, that I came within minutes and he followed not long after, still wordless.

I tried not to let him hear me cry. It had been over a day since he'd kissed me, the longest since I'd come aboard.


	7. Chapter 7

He kissed me, again, after we had offloaded our cargo at the refinery and before we disembarked on Romulus; caught me alone in a corridor and shoved me against a bulkhead, thrust his tongue between my lips and then walked away without saying a word. I was too stunned, too confused to think of calling after him. I wasn't sure what I would have said, or if he would even have stopped if I had.

We were constantly in each others' presence, of course; even if we hadn't shared quarters, we worked too closely to avoid each other. It was only in our moments of intimacy that we stayed silent, neither of us sure what we could say to the other anymore. It was easier to pretend the other wasn't a person when we were alone together. We took comfort in each other's bodies and didn't make eye contact.

I dared to break the silence at last, packing up my meager possessions in our quarters. "I won't forget you, Oren," I blurted. "I may be a stranger to you by next year, but you won't be to me."

His head turned sharply, pinning me with his gaze. "I won't forget you, either," he said fiercely. "I am not so selfish that I would keep you for my own, but I will not forget you."

 _I want you to be selfish_ , I didn't say. I choked on all the things I didn't say.

Oren had no such difficulty. "Why, Ayel?" he asked, his voice soft, pained. "What did I do to lose your favor? I only wanted to give you the freedom to court Mandana if you wished—"

" _Court Mandana?_ " I repeated, startled out of silence. "Why would I court her?"

He stared at me. "I thought—you were so close to her, and she seemed so eager to see you—"

"She's like my sister!"

He stared longer, then slowly began to smile. "All right, then."

I wasn't smiling. It wasn't all right. "Why did you wish Melhaes had died earlier?"

The smiled vanished as though I'd slapped him. "You would have replaced him earlier—"

"But I wouldn't have," I told him. "You hired me right out of school. If he'd died sooner, someone else would be here now and we would never have met."

He shook his head, looking stricken. "I wasn't thinking of that. I never—I only meant that I would have liked more time with you. That we could have longer with each other before this year apart."

I felt foolish. Of course he hadn't meant that he wanted to be rid of me. I had given him no reason to want that. I had been a model first officer, doing everything he asked of me. I had warmed his bed, even bitten him when he asked. The only thing he asked of me that I hadn't done was to confess my secret fantasy.

This was my last chance, before we parted ways for a year to meet again as strangers. "I want—" I blurted.

"What?" The expectation in his eyes was painful to bear. "What is it you would have of me, Ayel?"

Too painful. "To remain in each other's lives," I said lamely. I could not tell him, not now. "Throughout this next year. I would like for us to occasionally spend time together. Would that be all right?"

He nodded. "Of course we can continue to be friends."

The word sat strangely, uncomfortably in my ears. "I can be your subordinate. Your XO, your fucktoy, even your lover." I nearly stumbled over the last word. "But your friend? I don't think that's a role I will ever be able to play, Oren."

He nodded again, plainly unhappy but accepting. "Where does that leave us, then?"

I smiled. "In orbit of Romulus. I've got a dinner date with Mandana and a year to figure it out."

*****

She met us outside the shuttle, throwing herself at me with a squeal of delight and a rattle of jewelry. Mandana was never one to be seen in public unornamented, and she did not disappoint tonight, a vision in lilac silks and decorative gold baubles. "There you are, _dianvm_!" she cried, hugging me so hard I couldn't breathe. "Gods, finally! What took so long? I've missed you so much, _her'u_!"

"Please don't use that word," Oren interjected. He had been staring at her, dumbfounded, but the slur had jolted him out of the trance. "I won't have my crewmen addressed that way."

"She means it in jest," I said lamely, trying to gently disentangle myself from her embrace. "It's like a pet name."

"I don't care! It's an artifact of discrimination. I'm aware it's been reclaimed by the asexual community, but that doesn't make it all right to use it as an insult to anyone, affectionately meant or not."

Her eyes widened. "Okay! Fine, I won't use it. _Vah-udt_ , then, so morally superior to us common folk?"

It was another joke; Mandana was a scholar, and society placed her in a class above mere miners, but Oren didn't know that. I cleared my throat. "Mandana, may I present Captain Oren of the _Narada_ , my commander. Oren, my good friend Mandana."

"Ooh, the _captain!_ " She snapped to a parody of attention and mock-saluted, bouncing a fist off her breast. "Ayel, you didn't tell me he was gorgeous."

Oren blushed and stammered. I winced, grabbing Mandana's arm and hurrying her away, towards her waiting hovercar. "Try not to lose my job for me," I begged. "Or get us arrested." Her car was illegally parked, I saw, and I climbed into the passenger seat quickly, hoping we could get out of there before anyone saw us.

Mandana drove us to the ritzy part of town and handed her keys off to a uniformed valet. I felt woefully underdressed; Mandana's flowing silks were par for the course, with her, but I wished I'd had a chance to change into a nicer tunic. The restaurant where Mandana had made reservations cost a month's salary for a meal, and it was all I could do to not look as out-of-place as I felt.

It was the kind of restaurant where the waiters spoke in hushed voices and expected you to address them familiarly, murmuring "Very good, sir," after every request I made—though I was sure they would have preferred to think of them as orders rather than requests. They offered a taste of wine to Mandana before pouring a full glass, and I silently wondered whether anyone actually rejected a bottle after tasting it. It seemed ridiculous to me; in my worldview, you either drank or you didn't. You didn't spend five minutes ensuring the taste, scent, and color of your drink met your exacting standards.

Over dinner, Mandana shared with me the details of her life in the months I'd been gone. She was almost finished with the first draft of her dissertation, she told me, but it was a very _rough_ draft and she didn't expect to actually get her degree until next year. She told me of her personal life, too; she had had a string of lovers, none serious but all intimate, and she delighted in revealing explicit details of their trysts in the moments I had taken a sip of wine or a bite of food, trying to make me splutter and choke.

I was on my third glass of wine, beginning to enjoy her descriptions more than I was flustered by them. "Did any of your lovers..." I began to ask, then thought better of it, my brain sluggishly informing my mouth that I shouldn't ask that in public.

"What?" she pressed. "Did any of them what, Ayel?"

I leaned forward across the table and dropped my voice. "Were any of them into really kinky sorts of things? Like...biting?"

She grinned. "Rhaenel was. He left a bruise on my thigh. I didn't mind it, really, though I don't think I'd have asked for it if he hadn't." She took another drink of wine, watching me over the rim of her glass. "Enough about me. Tell me about your life on that ship. What's Oren like?"

I fumbled my fork, clattering against the edge of my plate for a moment. "What's he like how?" I said, too quickly. "What do you want to know about him?" She didn't know—surely she couldn't know that he liked being bitten, it had to be just a coincidence that she asked about him now.

She shrugged. "As a captain, I suppose. Is he fair? Is he cruel? Is he always so uptight about long-reclaimed ex-slurs?"

I was silent a long moment, considering how to answer. "He's...mercurial," I said at last. "Fair, yes, but when he's angry—really angry, I mean—he doesn't see straight. And he's protective of the crew, and we're very loyal to him. He's not uptight, Mandana, he just didn't want you insulting me."

"Well," she said. "That's all right, then." I couldn't tell if she was teasing me. "Does he sleep with the crew?"

"What? No!" My answer was quick, too quick, and she raised an eyebrow. It wasn't a lie, either—he didn't sleep with the crew. Only with me. I flushed. "He's not that kind of man."

"I'm sure he's not," she said, mollifying. "And if you blush any harder, you'll start to photosynthesize. What happened with him, Ayel?"

I was evidently completely transparent to her. Not to Oren, of course, and thank the gods for that. I didn't know how to answer her question, though; what could I tell her? That I had had the captain's favor until he had grown jealous of a romance that didn't exist? That I wanted more from him than would ever be appropriate for an officer to ask of his captain? "Nothing," I told her. "Nothing happened with him. Only I think he's a bit lonely." I wasn't sure where the words were coming from, but I stood behind them once they'd left my lips. "I know he was looking forward to this leave. A chance to form friendships outside of the crew." I paused, looking levelly at Mandana. "I think you might be good for him, _rinam_."

Her eyes sparkled. "Are you trying to set me up with your Captain Gorgeous? I suppose that's one way to gain his favor. Help him get laid." She giggled. "What do you think, should I buy him dinner first or take him straight to bed?"

Well, it was good to see she wasn't averse to the idea. Of course she wouldn't be; she'd expressed attraction to him practically the moment they'd met, and I knew that her gentle mockery was only flirting. "That's up to you," I said, and drained the rest of my wine. "You know what the first thing he said was, when he saw you in that message you sent me? He said you were beautiful. First words out of his mouth."

"Really?" She dabbed daintily at her lips with her napkin. "He doesn't seem the type to objectify a woman."

"He's not," I said quickly. "At least, I don't think he is." I frowned, a thought tickling at the back of my mind. Why had he hired me after one interview, again?

"Ayel." Mandana was gazing steadily at me. "Are you all right with this? Are you entirely comfortable with me becoming involved with your captain?"

I nodded. "I think you two could be good for each other. Prove me right, _rinam_. Because if you hurt him..." I let the threat hang in the air, unfinished. I didn't need to say it.


	8. Chapter 8

My apartment was as I had left it, home to simple furniture and the few possessions of sentimental value that I had not brought with me aboard the ship. I had always been comfortable there, but I found now, wandering through my few rooms and taking stock of the place, that it didn't really feel like home. The spaces were too large, the air too silent, my mattress too soft.

I could not sleep. I spent hours trying to wrestle my chaotic mind into submission, fighting through the quirks of thought brought on by half a bottle of wine. I shut my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to let the tension bleed out of my muscles, let myself melt into the bed and sink into sleep. It did not work. My eyes would not stay closed, and my attempts to ease my tension were wholly ineffective.

I was not a chronic insomniac, but there had been some nights aboard _Narada_ when I had found myself similarly unable to quiet my thoughts enough to sleep. Oren had helped, then, distracting my mind and exhausting my body until I drifted off, sated, in his arms.

The memories of those nights were all the encouragement my cock needed, stiffening between my legs. I curled my hand around it, loosely, wishing it were Oren's hand instead. I imagined his strong fingers, the thick tendons from wrist to knuckle flexing in the back of his hand as he tightened his grip, the raised veins showing coppery through his skin.

It was no good. I could not divorce my mind from the sensation of my own hand. I could not pretend it was Oren stroking me when I could feel the heat of my flesh against my palm. It wasn't enough anymore, somehow, no matter how physically enjoyable my touch was; mentally, it did nothing for me. I persisted in the attempt until I began to go soft, then gave up, feeling vaguely disgusted with myself.

I still couldn't sleep. I groaned aloud, tossing and turning, trying somehow to make my pillow comfortable enough for me to drift off, to ignore the texture of the sheets against my skin, to not feel as though I were drowning in silence. "Oren," I whispered into the darkness, as though I could summon him. How could I ever fall asleep without him beside me?

There was still enough wine in my system that it didn't seem like a bad idea to pick up my commpad and call him. It didn't occur to me that it was the middle of the night, that Oren was probably asleep, that my loneliness and insomnia and impotence wasn't reason enough to wake him, until he had answered my call and was blinking sleepily at me from the screen.

"Ayel?" he mumbled, frowning slightly. "What is it? What's wrong?" He was moving, standing up from his bed and walking somewhere—I couldn't see much behind him.

"Er, hi," I said. I couldn't think of what to say next. I glanced away from his gaze, embarrassed.

"Hi," he said. I saw him sit down—a couch in his living room, probably, from what I could see. Some distance behind him, there was a painting on a wall that seemed strangely familiar, though I couldn't place it—and it wasn't what I wanted to be focusing on, when Oren was looking at me with that smile on his face. That, too, was familiar, not strange but comfortable, the smile he wore when he woke up next to me.

"I miss you," I blurted.

His smile softened but didn't fade. "It's been less than a day since we saw one another, _a'rhea_."

The endearment startled a grin out of me. "And it's too long, still. I think I've become accustomed to your presence. I couldn't sleep."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "I seem to recall being able to help you with that particular problem once or twice."

"I remember," I told him. "I tried that method...it wasn't as effective as when you helped."

Oren pressed his fingertips together, half contemplation, half titillation. "Perhaps you could try again."

My heartrate picked up, "Perhaps," I agreed. "Do you have any suggestions as to where I should start?"

"First—" Oren's voice was rough, and he cleared his throat with a low growl. "I want to see you. All of you."

I tapped a control on my commpad, widening the camera angle, and kicked off the sheet that covered me to the waist. Oren made a soft, appreciative sound, his eyes raking down my body and lingering on my erection.

"Touch yourself," Oren commanded. Clearing his throat hadn't eased much of the dark desire that thickened his tone. "Take it slow for me, Ayel. I want you to savor it."

My breath shuddered from my lips as I trailed one hand across my chest, the other palm resting on my thigh. Oren's words made my heart pound. He could have simply ordered me to pleasure myself, and I would have been happy to obey, but he had said _I want_ ; this was as much for him as it was for me. My eyes drifted shut, and a moan escaped me before I was aware of it.

"Good," Oren murmured. I heard a slick, soft sound, intimately familiar, and I didn't have to look to know he was smearing precome along his shaft. "How does that feel, _e'lev_?"

I gasped, gripping my cock and squeezing. I was astounded that Oren would call me that, now—was he even aware he'd said it? My cock was slippery-wet in my hand. "Oh, gods," I breathed. I didn't have the words to tell him how it felt, when a single word from him had nearly ended the show.

"You're gorgeous like this," Oren said. "My Ayel. Look at you, all flushed and trembling...gods." His voice broke on the last word, a tremor of lust. He continued, filling my ears with endearments and praise and the occasional command, "Slower," or "Pull harder," and further praise when I obeyed.

"I wish I could touch you," he said at last. "Wish I could feel you pulse in my hand, feel your hot come spill over my fingers—gods, Ayel!" There was desperation in his voice, and I could hear the slide of his hand as he increased his pace.

My thighs were trembling, my body so tense that my back arched off the bed. This close to orgasm, it took monumental effort to open my eyes, and they watered when I did. Across two screens and gods know how many miles, I met his gaze with tears leaking from my eyes. "Oren," I breathed, and shuddered and shook through my release.

He responded in kind, spilling over his fingers and gasping my name. His other hand reached for me, futilely; now he was supposed to take me in his arms and kiss me, and we would fall asleep together.

I exhaled, long and slow, still a little unsteady. I could make do. "Thank you, Oren," I said. "I think I can sleep now." I felt warm, despite the sheen of cooling sweat on my skin; comfortable, despite the too-soft mattress; loved, despite the distance between us.

"Oren?" It was a woman's voice, gentle, calling from somewhere near him. " _A'rhea_ , come back to bed."

I realized why the painting on the wall behind Oren had seemed familiar. I had seen it a hundred times before, on the living room wall in Mandana's apartment.


	9. Chapter 9

I caught the sheet between my toes and lazily drew my leg up to pull the covers up to my waist. It was some semblance of decency, anyway, as I rolled onto my side, away from the commpad I'd left propped up on the bed. I shut my eyes again. Maybe the awkwardness would go away if I didn't look.

"What are you doing?" Mandana's tone was curious, not accusatory, and she didn't seem to have noticed me. She was probably more concerned with Oren's nudity, on her living room couch, and the semen still on his hand.

"You were asleep," Oren said, half-apologetic.

"You could have woken me up. I wouldn't have minded." Her voice was clearer now, closer. In spite of myself, I glanced over my shoulder at my screen. It had gone dark; Oren had dropped his commpad facedown on the couch, but not disconnected the call.

"It wasn't exactly my idea," Oren said. "He called _me_."

"He who?" Mandana sounded confused. "I thought you were out here watching porn."

There was a long pause, then Oren cleared his throat. "He...didn't tell you about us."

"Ayel." Her tone was amused, not angry, to my bewilderment. "You were having comm sex, on my living room sofa, with my brother, who lied to my face about his relationship with you...and you did this while I was asleep in the next room."

I had to laugh. Somehow, when spoken aloud, it seemed exactly like something Oren would do. "Hello, Mandana," I called.

The image returned to my dark screen as Mandana picked up Oren's commpad. "Good morning, Ayel," she said. "You lied to me. I asked you about your relationship with Oren, and you said there was nothing. I asked you if he fucks his crew, and you said no."

"I don't!" Oren said, at the same moment I said, "He doesn't!"

Mandana raised an eyebrow, and I continued. "And you didn't ask about the relationship, you asked _what happened_. There are many ways that question could have been interpreted. I'm sure my answer fits several of them." I yawned, abruptly sleepy, shielding my mouth with the back of my wrist.

"Am I to believe, then, that this little—" She gestured, somehow indicating both Oren and me with a borderline-obscene flick of her fingers— "encounter was the first time you two have..." She trailed off, her eyes widening. "Oh! He doesn't fuck his crew, just you, is that it? Oh my gods, you're in love."

"What? No!" I wasn't sure which of us started talking first, but we were both protesting, our words overlapping and tangling together. It wasn't like that, we worked together, it was an arrangement of convenience and comfort and perhaps some mutual affection, certainly, but not love, that would be ridiculous—

"All right!" Mandana cried. "Stop, I get it! Transmission received, not in love. Perish the thought. It still doesn't explain any of this. Ayel, why did you practically throw me at him, if he's your...whatever it is you call it?"

"He's my captain," I told her, simply. "I wanted him to be happy. I thought you would make him happy. Is that so strange?"

Mandana blinked. Beside her, Oren was wearing a strange expression, as though he were trying not to smile. I wanted to kiss that look off his face.

"No," Mandana said at last. "I suppose not. You can truly share him with me, and not suffer?"

I flushed. _I'm suffering now, and every moment I can't touch him._ "Yes," I told her. "How could I be unhappy, knowing he's happy with you?"

She nodded, her lips stretching into a smile. "Then I can share him with you, too," she said.

"You speak of me as though I'm a toy," Oren said, feigning disgruntlement. "Will you pass me back and forth, each playing with me until you grow bored and let the other have a turn?"

"As if I could ever grow tired of you," Mandana said, reaching to catch his hand in hers—the hand still sticky with his release. She began massaging his fingers, absently, as though she weren't really aware she was doing it. I knew her better; as she rubbed his own essence into his skin, I looked away, embarrassed and strangely self-conscious. It wasn't the sexuality of the act that made me uncomfortable; it was the look on Oren's face, pure contentment like I had glimpsed with him only in our moments together, when we were both sweat-drenched and sated. It was a blend of exhaustion and ultimate satisfaction, and I knew then that he was in love.

I knew my sister, too, well enough to know what this meant to her. She had confided in me often enough over the years, and I'd seen her infatuated with men; I'd seen her have casual flings, and emotionless sex, and I'd seen her fall head over heels in love. She and Oren may have met a matter of hours ago, but the two of them were like a pair of singularities, caught in each other's gravity well, inevitable and inextricable.

Suddenly, I was exhausted. I was physically spent, and it was too late in the night to keep my eyes open, even to try and puzzle out how I felt about Mandana and Oren being in love. "Good night," I mumbled, but I wasn't sure either of them heard me. When I reached over to end the transmission, they were each looking at each other like they were the only two people in the galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one, sorry. Next chapter will have more sex!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still here...

I slept until early afternoon. I wasn't sure how I managed it; I must have been more tired than I thought. I would have expected that the habit of waking up for my shift would have left me with an internal alarm clock, but that did not prove to be the case. Bright sunlight was coming through my west-facing bedroom windows by the time I drifted towards awareness. I yawned, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and nearly jumped out of my skin.

Oren was sitting on the edge of my bed. " _Fvadt!_ " I yelped. "How did you get in?" Foolishly, I grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to my chin—as though I had anything to hide from him, as though he hadn't seen every inch of me laid bare. "How long have you been watching me sleep?" My voice was shrill.

"Mandana has a pass-key," Oren told me. "I told her I wanted to see you today, and she gave it to me."

I gaped at him. "A little warning would have been nice! Or you could have _asked_ if you could come into my home."

"Is this your home?" he asked, glancing at the bare walls, the utter lack of adornment or sentiment evident in the room, or indeed anywhere in the apartment.

I flushed. "That's beside the point," I said.

"My home is my quarters aboard _Narada_ ," Oren said. His eyes fixed on me again. "Our quarters."

"Yes," I said faintly.

"Ayel." He sighed. "Things have gotten complicated between us. I want to fix that. Will you help me do that?"

I struggled for a moment, trying to find words to answer. I had just woken up, my brain was still moving sluggishly, and he'd shown up unexpectedly in my bedroom, and now... "Yes," I managed, "Oren—" I gestured futilely. "Can we fix it when I'm wearing pants?"

He reached out, trailing his fingers down my bare chest. I shivered slightly. His fingers dragged over a dried streak on my skin, the remains of last night's tele-tryst. "You need a shower," he said. "Clean up, and dress yourself, and come to me in the living room." He spoke it like an order, as though getting dressed had been his idea, not mine. Instinct forbade me to argue.

A real water shower was one of the few luxuries I allowed myself, and I lingered in the hot spray perhaps longer than was wise. It felt good, sluicing over my skin, even as the tips of my fingers wrinkled, turning every texture strange. I stood under the water with my eyes closed, feeling it run over my body. I was half-hard, and thought briefly about masturbating, but decided against it. Given last night's failure, I wasn't even sure I could do it without Oren, and if I could, he might be disappointed that I hadn't let him participate. Besides, something in his tone when he ordered me to shower had suggested that I should do what he said, and nothing else.

I toweled off, combed my hair into some semblance of neatness, and dressed in a simple pair of trousers, soft cloth with a drawstring waist, loose and comfortable. My heart was pounding, unaccountably, as I went into the living room. Oren was waiting for me, as he'd said, seated in the center of my couch. He gave me an appraising glance, his eyes raking over my body, somehow making me feel more naked than I ever had when I'd been in his bed.

"Have a seat," Oren said.

Somehow, that most innocuous of suggestions rubbed me the wrong way. He was inviting me to make myself comfortable in my own apartment, and it made me uncharacteristically contrary. I declined to seat myself on either side of him on my couch, and knelt instead on the floor at his feet, in the narrow strip of bare wood where the rug ended. I rested my hands lightly on my thighs and kept my eyes down.

"Ayel," he said, something strange in his tone, and made an abortive movement with his hand that I saw from the corner of my eye. I wasn't sure if he had been going to grab me, or strike me, but after a moment he began to gently stroke my hair. "I don't deserve you," he said, his voice strained.

I let my eyes close, comforted by his touch. "I wish I were more worthy of you," I murmured.

"No. No, Ayel." His grip in my hair tightened, pulling, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to force my chin up. I was startled to see his eyes glistening. "You misunderstand, _e'lev_. It is I who am not worthy of you."

"There's that word again," I said. Last night had been different. Last night he could have been caught up in the heat of passion, speaking without thought to the words issuing from his lips. Now, though, in the light of day, what excuse could he hide behind? This was no bite mark that could be covered by a high collar. "Do you mean it, Oren?" My heart pounded, fearing his answer.

He was silent a long moment. "I cannot tell you how much it pains me that you doubt it," he replied, his voice strained. "If you wish me dead, tell me that you do not want me—tell me that you wish to forget me, for our association to end—"

"Those were your words," I reminded him. "A year apart to forget each other. Shipboard romances end on shore leave, isn't that what you told me?"

"And I cannot express how much I regret allowing you to think that those were my wishes, rather than my worst fears." He relaxed his grip on my hair, and I bowed my head again. He resumed his gentle petting, soothing me as though I were a nervous animal.

"Oren," I breathed. I felt off-balance, somehow. I was where I was supposed to be, kneeling at his feet, but something didn't feel right. Here, he was not my captain; I was not his first officer. We were only two men, and outside of the ship, what could we be to each other? "I am not your boyfriend, sir," I told him, each word uncomfortable in my mouth.

His hand faltered in its stroking. "No?" he murmured. "I suppose you're not that. But you are mine, are you not?" He resumed petting me, firmer now.

"Yes," I agreed, relieved. "I am yours, Captain."

"Good." The word was forced out on an exhale, irrepressible. He shifted, letting his knees fall open. I glanced up, attention arrested by the motion.

My breath caught in my throat. He was hard, straining at the seams of his trousers, and I hadn't noticed—for how long? How long had I been selfishly focused on my own issues and ignoring the needs of my captain? My mouth was watering, and I rose up on my knees, sliding my hands up his thighs, automatic, instinctive.

"Ayel." His voice was rough, and he caught my hands in his, gentle but quelling. "I came here to talk about Mandana."

I looked up at him, confused. "What?"

"I need to know that I'm not hurting you."

I shook my head. "Hurting me? In what way?"

He frowned. "Don't play stupid, Ayel. You convince no one."

I sat back, stung. "I'm not. Did I not just tell you that I am not your boyfriend? Do you think that I would be jealous, if you are hers? Do you wish it?"

He released my hands. "Wish you jealous? No. I wish for you to care, perhaps. You and I may not feel for each other what I feel for Mandana, but you surely must have feelings, one way or another, about my being with her."

"Of course I do," I said. "My sister, and my captain, the two people I care about most in the galaxy—and you want to know whether I have feelings? How could I not? But you think I should be jealous. Tell me, what do I lose by your relationship with her? What harm could it do me?"

"Time. That is what you lose," he said. "Time I wish to spend with her, that might otherwise be spent with you."

"We're not cooped up on a starship," I reminded him. "I believe it for the better that we not spend every minute of leave in each other's company. Not that I don't enjoy every moment we _do_ share, of course." I flexed my hands where they rested on his thighs, a gentle squeeze, a reminder of my purpose. "In fact, it makes those moments all the sweeter."

"And you truly are not hurt by my feelings for her?"

I hesitated, searching his face. "Oren, I have told you I am not. Why do you keep asking? What is it that you wish to hear from me, that I am not telling you?" I withdrew my hands, apprehensive. "Do you want me to say that I am hurt, and I cannot stand to be with you when you are in love with another? Are you searching for a reason to end our association?" I felt myself trembling, my heart beating too hard in my chest. "You think you cannot be with me and love Mandana at the same time."

" _No._ " He surged forward, grabbing my hands. "Ayel. Never. I will never leave you for another. I will never choose someone over you. I only—I want to be certain that I do not lose you, through any act I commit."

"You should choose Mandana over me, if you must make a choice," I told him quietly. "I will not ask you to make that choice. I am content to remain yours, and for you to be with her. But if she asks you to choose, you must choose her, because if you break my sister's heart, I will hurt you."

"It would hurt me enough to leave you," he said.

I shut my eyes. "Then don't," I said. "Has Mandana asked you to? Last night, she seemed happy enough to let you have me. I don't believe she thinks you love her any less for your relationship with me."

"No, she hasn't," he said. "Nor given an indication that she loves me less..." He trailed off, then repeated, absently, "She loves me."

I nodded and looked up. "And you love her. Is that what you needed to say?"

He looked surprised as he nodded in reply, as though he hadn't realized it until that moment. "And what is it you need me to say? That I love you, too?"

I swallowed, hard. I felt everything in that moment—confused, elated, terrified, and it all swirled and gathered and manifested as a thick silence in my throat. At last, at long last, I got out, "I know that you do. It is a truth you keep revealing, intentionally or not." I laughed, short and surprised. "You and I, we are not lovers, we are not in love, but we love each other."

He squeezed my hands in his. "There are different kinds of love. Mandana and I..."

"Are in love," I finished for him. "It's as clear as day. But what you feel for her is not what you feel for me."

"No," he agreed. "You are mine. I am hers..."

"I understand," I told him. He belonged to her, perhaps not in the same way I belonged to him, but surely closer to that than what he was to me.

"Good." His tone was a burden lifted, and he gripped my hands again, harder, silently demanding something.

"There are different kinds of hurt, too," I told him boldly. "You take such care to protect my heart, but tell me honestly that you do not love to see my skin turn green under your palm. Tell me you don't love to take me roughly, use my body for your pleasure until I beg for mercy."

Oren's eyes widened in shock, or lust, some combination of the two. " _Fvadt_ , Ayel! Such things you say." He grabbed a handful of my hair, twisting it tight between his fingers.

"This is what you came to hear me say," I said. "That you could not, cannot, have never hurt me in any way I did not ask for." I took an unsteady breath, relishing the tug at my scalp. "I'm asking for it now."

He sat forward on the edge of the couch, one hand opening his trousers, freeing his cock from their confines. He let out a growl, dragging me by the hair between his legs, pushing the head of his cock against my mouth, and I parted my lips to let him in, but he held back. "Ayel," he said. "Tell me this is what you want."

"It is," I told him, and flicked my tongue out, swiping over the flushed head, tasting precome. "I need you to fuck my face."

Oren seized my head in both hands. He rolled his hips forward, his cock pushing halfway into my mouth. "Ayel," he moaned, but still held back; he withdrew, and did not thrust in again.

I didn't understand what he was waiting for. "You want to, don't you? The whole time I've been kneeling at your feet, you've been hard as duranium. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you can look at me on my knees and not want to have me."

"You're not wrong," he said, breathless. "But I _don't_ want to hurt you. If you need me to stop, and you can't say your safeword, what then?"

"I won't need you to stop," I told him. I tried to lean forward and take him in my mouth, but his hands in my hair held me fast.

"Ayel," he said warningly. "We're not doing this if we can't be safe. I _won't_ push you past your limits. I need some way for you to communicate to me."

"All right," I said. I thought for a moment. "If you aren't sure, touch the palm of my hand. I'll close my fingers around yours if I'm all right." I blushed, even as I spoke; sucking his cock was one thing, but asking for such a tender gesture was verging on sappy.

"I accept," Oren said, and shifted his hands, his thumbs framing my jaw, holding it open as he thrust into my mouth again. I swallowed around his girth, the head of his cock bumping the back of my throat.

"Good, Ayel," he murmured, and slipped one hand into mine. I squeezed his fingers, hard, and he moaned as he rolled his hips, driving into my mouth. Each thrust was deeper than the last, and I soon found myself able to do little more than swallow against my gag reflex and hang on as he fucked my mouth. His hands were everywhere, it seemed, clenching in my hair, caressing my face, holding me by the neck—and brushing over my palm, every few minutes. Each time, I grabbed his fingers. I tried to interlace our hands, once, to keep a grip on his hand so that he would _know_ —but he pulled away and seized a fistful of my hair again.

"Ayel," he moaned, a note of desperation in his tone, and I tried to make a sound of encouragement but couldn't get it out of my throat past his thick cock. He made a sound in the back of his throat, high and strained. I gripped his hips, pulling him in and holding him at the peak of a thrust, buried in my throat, and he grabbed my hair again as he came, twisting hard until I let go. "Fuck," he gasped, "fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," and pulled back, pulsing once over my tongue before he slipped from my lips. He spent the rest of his release over my face, hot on my skin, and I licked my lips to catch what I could.

Oren sat back on the couch, breathing hard, his limbs limp. "What a greedy little thing you are. You'd suck my cock all day if I let you, wouldn't you?" The way he said it made it sound like flattery.

"Yes," I tried to say, but what emerged from my throat was more of a faint wheeze.

He sat up, frowning. "Did I hurt you? You kept squeezing my hand."

I swallowed hard and tried again to speak. "No," I managed hoarsely. "I'm fine. I never wanted you to stop."

He regarded me with a strange expression. "Will you ever want me to stop? I fear you would hold your peace and let me push you past your limits, out of desire to please me."

I shook my head. "What limits? I would die if you asked it of me."

He leaned forward and grabbed my head in his hands again. "That's not the way this is supposed to work." His glare was softened by the way he caressed my face, thumbs smearing his seed along my cheekbones. "That is the last thing I would ever ask. What sort of Captain would I be, if I asked you to act against your own interest?" He didn't give me a chance to answer, leaning down and kissing me firmly, briefly. "Enough of that sort of talk. I forbid you to die for me."

"Yes, sir," I murmured, shocked to see his eyes glistening.

He rested his forehead against mine for a moment, breathing my air. I could tell the moment his mood shifted; his hands tightened almost imperceptibly a second before he smiled, his lips stretching into something feral. "On the subject of your own interest, you surely must need to come."

I was diamond-hard, my need ignored as I'd serviced my Captain. Precome stuck the cloth of my trousers to the sensitive head of my cock, and I'd been trying not to move as the slight stimulation threatened to drive me mad. "I will, if you ask me to," I told him. A word from him would be enough to push me over the edge, untouched. All I needed was permission.

"When I ask you to, not before?" His tone was part question, part command.

I took a steadying breath and nodded. "I can do that." I smiled hesitantly. "You have something in mind? You want me to wait for your word?"

He stood, holding out his hands to pull me to my feet, a predatory grin twisting his features. "I'm going to find your limits, Ayel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally meant to have less talking and more fucking, but since when have my characters ever done what I wanted them to?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. There were other muses to be tended.

My limbs burned with muscle fatigue and I gritted my teeth against the strain. The edge I clung to dug sharply into my palms, slick with sweat; any moment now, I would lose my grip. My breath came in harsh sobs, and each exhale I feared might emerge as a word.

Oren, behind me, was gripping my arse firmly in both hands, his thumbs keeping me spread open as he tormented me with his tongue. I was on my knees on my kitchen island, my arms stretched out above my head to hold the edge of the counter, kept there by Oren's command and my own strength of will.

Oren had been delighted to learn that I had never had a lover visit this particular residence before, and declared that we must make proper use of the place, room by room. We had started in the living room and would finish in the bedroom, which left only the kitchen and bathroom on the list. I had offered to give him a tour of my meager accommodations.

The kitchen was a place for eating, Oren had declared, before he set to devouring me. He had used his mouth only, penetrating me with his tongue, sucking at my rim, driving me to the point of desperation. I felt sweat running in rivulets between my shoulderblades, trickling from my temples. I needed release, more badly than I ever had in my life.

Oren paused in his work, withdrawing his torturous tongue and running his fingertips lightly down the backs of my thighs, trailing over my tense muscles. "Say it, Ayel."

"No," I gritted.

"You're going to break, one way or the other. You'll beg me for permission, or you'll defy my orders...and then we'll have to punish you, won't we?"

"I won't disobey you, sir," I gasped. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately seeking control.

"You won't come without my permission? Then ask for it. This can all be over, Ayel, all you have to do is say please." He gave my buttock a light slap, no true spanking, but in my state it was dangerously close to overwhelming. My cock was drooling precome on the counter beneath me, and I let my head drop, pressing my face to the smooth surface. It was no relief; the moisture on my skin was too much insulation for me to be soothed by the relative coolness of the counter.

"I don't need it yet," I heard myself say.

"Very well," Oren drawled. "Let's see how much more you can take." He leaned in again and dragged his tongue up my perineum to my hole, teasing around the edge and then thrusting inside. I fought back a scream as he caught at my sensitive inner rim, my hands flexing on the edge of the island.

_I can last longer_ , I told myself. _I don't need release just yet. I can last._ I wasn't sure I quite believed myself. Tremors ran through me, beginning in my very core, somewhere behind my navel, and radiating out to my extremities. My balls were so swollen, I feared they would soon reach critical mass, and my poor cock twitched with each stroke and thrust of my captain's tongue. _Oh, gods. Give me strength._ I was not a religious man, but I found myself praying.

Oren moaned. His face was buried between my cheeks, his lips around my hole, his tongue deep within me, and the sound traveled directly up my spine to the part of my brain that was still fighting the inevitable, and delivered to it a mortal blow. " _Please!_ " I screamed, my last tendril of dignity slipping from my grasp. "Please let me come! Oh, gods, Oren, please!" I was about to fall, losing my grip—no, I was falling, I was gone—

The world spun and I found myself on my back, plastered to the island with Oren leaning over me, his strong hand gripping my cock, my only anchor to a planet that sought to throw me free of its gravity well. "Yes, Ayel, let go. Do it for me," he said, and I screamed again, wordless, as I exploded into millions of razor-sharp shards.

It is a strange thing, falling apart. I didn't feel pain; it wasn't a relief, but it wasn't sensationless, either. I could feel each part of me separating from the others, drifting, ceasing to be a whole. My eyes ceased to see, my ears no longer heard, and my skin felt neither the heat of my blood nor the chill of my perspiration. I don't know how long I was _not_ ; it was not peaceful, as one might expect, but neither was it anything else.

I was being kissed. That was the next thing I knew, and the only thing that mattered. I wanted to kiss back, and wrap my arms around my lover, but my body refused to cooperate; I hadn't quite remembered how to be, yet, and my muscles did not respond to my commands. Before I could make myself react, the kiss ended.

"You're all right," Oren murmured. I felt gentle pressure, soft sensation, tingling in the skin that I did indeed have. "You're all right, Ayel, you're all right." His voice was soothing, grounding, drawing me back to myself. "You did so well, my love. You're all right."

I managed a small motion, my muscles still by and large disobedient. I was on something soft, now, I discovered, and my body was restricted, enveloped by something. I tried to speak; it came out as a groan, and I felt Oren's lips on my cheeks, my forehead, the bridge of my nose.

I opened my eyes. I don't know where I found the strength, but I needed to see his face. His dark eyes were flooded with concern, and I felt guilty. He shouldn't worry about me. I shouldn't have made him worry. " _Usae_ ," I whispered. My eyes prickled.

"No, no, Ayel, don't be sorry!" he said. He wrapped his arms around me, but I did not feel his skin, to my disappointment. I realized he had carried me to my bed and swaddled me in towels, drying the sheen of sweat that had coated my skin. It still lingered in the creases of my body, behind my knees and under my arms and where my thighs met my groin. I tried to move, to disentangle myself, and found that I was shaking, still; worse than I had at the height of my desperation. My limbs were jelly.

"I love you," I said. It wasn't what I had intended when I opened my mouth; I had meant to offer some apology, or explanation, or reassurance. I expected that I would blush, but strangely, I felt myself calm, the tremors easing. A tightness in my chest that I hadn't noticed until now began to relax.

He smiled, bright as a supernova, genuine joy in his face. "Ah, there. You've got some color back. I've never seen you so pale as you were just now."

I managed an upward curve of my lips in return. "If all my blood was elsewhere, you were to blame, my captain." I shifted, managing to work one arm free of the towel. I wrapped it around Oren's body.

He gave a soft chuckle. "Do you know that you are a fool, Ayel? A beautiful, wonderful fool."

"I am, to be sure," I agreed, "but what gives you cause to say it now?"

"For loving me, when I torment you so," he said. "For enduring what I inflict upon you. You ought to have broken an hour before you gave in to me."

It sounded like criticism but felt like praise. "I did tell you I have no limits, sir."

He shook his head, disbelieving. "You'll make me the death of you, and I will never forgive either of us for it."

I leaned in to close the scant distance between us. It had been too long without his lips on mine. I opened my mouth under his, inviting his tongue between my lips, but he pulled back.

"Easy, Ayel," he said softly. He cupped my face in his hands, thumbs caressing my cheekbones. "Are you not exhausted? Are you entirely insatiable?"

"I'm satiable," I told him, smiling foolishly. "I'm just...happy. I'm enjoying being with you."

He smiled back, and kissed my forehead. "You stay here. I'm going to go get you some _nunevae_ juice."

I wrinkled my nose. "Why? I don't like _nunevae_." It tasted like soap, I thought.

Oren kissed me again, on the bridge of my nose. "It's high in electrolytes. You need to replenish them, and rehydrate. Do you realize how much you sweated?"

"Your fault," I mumbled.

"It is," he agreed. "My doing, and my responsibility to take care of you." He sat up, pulling away from me, and left.

I drifted, somewhere between waking and sleeping, half-dreaming. It was a memory: Mandana and I had played a pick-up game of karonet in our youth. It was a hot summer day, and after an afternoon of running around the public park and thoroughly exhausting ourselves, Mandana had dragged me to a juice bar and forced me to down a concoction of _nunevae_ , protein, and bananas, insisting that the Terran fruit would improve both the flavor and effectiveness of the _nunevae_. I had obediently drunk it all, and been sick later on the way home. Mandana had laughed, and told me I'd only drunk it too fast. I woke up coughing, tasting the juice in the back of my throat.

"Easy," Oren said again. He was holding me half sitting up, a glass of the milky green juice held to my lips. "Don't drink it too fast."

I blinked at him, pulling myself out of the dream. "You and Mandana are perfect together," I mumbled.

He didn't move for a long moment, and I couldn't read his face. "What makes you say that now?" he asked.

"She makes me drink _nunevae_ too," I said. I sat up and took the glass. I took another sip, grimacing at the taste, then frowned. "There are other reasons you're a good couple. Should I not have mentioned it?"

He shrugged, a strange motion as if shaking off an unwanted touch. "It feels strange to think about being with her when I'm with you. It's a very different frame of mind, with her."

I nodded. "I understand. I'm sorry. I'll try not to bring up your relationship with her when we're together. But she is my _rinam_ , and we have a relationship of our own."

"And I would not want to change that," he assured me. He nodded toward the glass I still held. "Drink," he reminded. "I won't have you suffering from dehydration on my account."

I drank. _Nunevae_ juice was slimy, I decided, as well as soapy. I swallowed fast, trying not to taste it or feel it on my tongue, and had finished the glass before I realized it. Oren set the empty glass on the bedside table, then began pulling the towels off me. My limbs were no longer shaking, but I didn't feel quite myself, and he helped me pull the covers over myself, then stripped off his own clothes and climbed in beside me.

He pulled me into his arms and kissed me without urgency. He was hard against my belly, and I spread my legs for him as I kissed back, but he made no move to take me. He did not increase the pressure or fervor of his kisses and caresses. They were more soothing than arousing, and I was finding it harder to stave off the lingering exhaustion. I was comfortable and content and loved.

"Sleep now. You've earned it," Oren whispered, and I did.


	12. Chapter 12

It was dark when I woke again, feeling more like myself. The mattress didn't seem too soft anymore, but then, I wasn't focused on the mattress when Oren's strong arms were wrapped firmly around my bare body. I shifted and stretched, and he let me, gently resettling his grip on me once I subsided. He was asleep, I realized, and found that strange. Now that I thought about it, I couldn't remember ever being awake when he was asleep. Usually, he woke up when I did; sometimes, he had already been awake and had been watching me sleep for a while by the time I awoke. This was a rare opportunity, a chance to see him completely relaxed and at peace.

With a whisper, I brought the lights up just barely enough to make out the details of his face, hoping not to wake him. My breath caught in my chest. I was stunned by how beautiful he looked, all of the fine lines of care and worry erased from his skin, his usual intensity temporarily absent. There was none of the familiar tension around the corners of his mouth, and he looked almost sad.

The strangeness of it all began to creep up on me—being awake in the arms of my sleeping lover, in the silence and softness of a bedroom that wasn't really mine. The absence of the hum of starship engines was going to drive me mad if I wasn't careful. Perhaps it was only Oren keeping me sane.

He grunted softly in his sleep and shifted, and I suddenly became aware that I'd tightened my grip on him, without realizing it, to the point of discomfort. I let go, but it was too late. He blinked a few times, his eyes focusing slowly on my face. "What time is it?" he whispered.

"I don't know," I told him. "Late."

He shut his eyes again, but didn't fall back asleep. His hands moved, slowly, gently, roaming over my skin. It was simultaneously comforting and arousing, and I found myself pressing against his body.

A thought drifted to the forefront of my mind, not entirely pleasant. I bit my lip, hesitating, struggling, then blurted, "Do you have to leave soon? Is Mandana expecting you back?"

His eyes opened, dark and intense once more. "Hush, Ayel," he said. "I told you not to talk about her when we're together." He pressed the fingers of one hand over my mouth, silencing me. My breath caught.

I parted my lips, hardly daring to breathe, and flicked my tongue out to sweep along the crease between his fingers. The sound he made was violently erotic, an explosive groan of pleasure that shivered from my ears straight down my spine. I felt my heart begin to pound as I began to suck on two of his fingers, feeling like I was walking along the crumbling edge of a cliff.

There was fire in his eyes, the kind that burns, and when he moved atop me I expected him to pin me down, to force my legs apart and take me, to break the bed with his passion. I have never been so surprised as I was by the restraint he showed, the gentleness in his motions as he guided me onto my back and settled on top of me, not even grinding against me to ease his need. He was patient, letting me take my time with his fingers, torturing them with my tongue until they were slippery-wet and his every breath was a moan. I curled my tongue around the digits, memorizing the texture of his knuckles, the softness of the spaces between his fingers.

When he pressed them into me, unerringly hitting my prostate, I saw stars. His hand moved inside me, twisting, thrusting, stretching me open and teasing me to the verge of madness. I clenched around his fingers, desperate, wanting more. Oren smiled, something wicked in his eyes, but a strange sort of satisfaction too, as though I had pleased him by my need. I shifted, instinctively rolling my hips to meet the thrust of his hand, my cock wet with precome.

It wasn't enough—pleasurable, to be sure, but even his strong fingers were no match for his cock. "Please," I whispered. I had no shame, not anymore, not after he had torn that desperate plea from me in the kitchen. "Oren, please."

"Please what, Ayel?" he whispered back, his eyes glinting with cruel mirth. He knew damn well what, and was nevertheless going to make me say it.

"Your cock," I begged. "I need it. Please, Oren."

"Do you?" He withdrew his hand, and for a moment I thought he was going to accede to my wishes so easily. Instead he wrapped his hand around my wrist and guided my hand between our bodies, pressing his cock into my palm. "Here's my cock, Ayel, that you need so badly. What will you do with it?"

I curled my fingers around his shaft, drawing my hand slowly up his length. I could feel his blood throbbing inside his flesh, iron-hard, the skin soft and smooth. I spread my legs wider and gave him a gentle tug, thinking to guide him toward my hole, but he would not move. "Please!" I said again, sounding desperate to my own ears. "I need it inside me—gods, Oren, _please_ , I need you to—"

"Okay," he whispered. "It's all right, Ayel, I've got you." And then he was there, blunt head nudging at my entrance, pressing inside, breaching me, my body yielding eagerly to the intrusion. I didn't breathe again until he was fully sheathed within me, and my next exhale was nearly a sob. He kissed me then—on my forehead, my cheeks, my eyelids, peppering my face with soft brushes of his lips until, frustrated, I grabbed his head with both hands to hold him still and crushed my mouth to his.

He deepened the kiss as he began to thrust, his tongue moving between my lips in rhythm with the motion of his hips. I could do little more than cling to him, nearly overwhelmed by emotion and sensation. When he wrapped his hand around my cock, I gasped against his lips and opened my eyes to find his half-lidded, watching me at close range. I felt, suddenly, that he could see straight into my soul, and had to struggle not to try to hide. I had nothing to hide from him anymore.

"Oren," I breathed. I was sweating; we both were, our bodies slick wherever we touched, and I tasted salt when I licked my lips. His eyes were locked with mine, and I could not look away. We were linked together, bound in each other's bodies, and I felt the fire building low in his belly as he felt it in mine. Our rhythm faltered like a stumble mid-sprint, and I clutched at him for balance as his hand tightened around me. "Oren," I whimpered, a plea for help or a warning of my imminent demise. He kissed me again, not deeply, keeping his eyes locked with mine as he brushed our lips together.

I felt the moment he began to come, his body so deeply joined with mine that I could not find the boundary between us. His climax shuddered through him and into me, a supernova chain reaction that superheated my soul. His passion consumed me, made me part of him, and when the cataclysm subsided I found that nothing and everything had changed.

Oren moved off me and settled on his side next to me, pulling me into his arms again. He stroked my hair, fingertips raking over my scalp, and I couldn't help but wonder how he could stand it. He held me, letting me curl in against him, making soothing noises until I could breathe without sobbing, and I noticed then that I had been crying. My eyes were swollen, the pillow under my cheek damp.

"Please tell me what's wrong," he whispered. "Are you all right?" When I raised my head to look at his face, I saw his eyes brimming with concern, worry...no, fear. He was terrified. "Ayel, tell me what you need."

"Nothing," I murmured. "You just gave it to me." I nuzzled in against him, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. "I'm happy," I told him. "These are tears of happiness, Oren."

He stroked a hand down my spine and back up, slowly, steadily. "What did I give to you, _heis'he_?"

I swallowed hard. It didn't scare me as much, now that he had seen within me and we had become part of one another, but the words were still difficult to say. They lodged in my throat when I opened my mouth to speak, so I closed it again, lightly catching his skin between my teeth.

"Oh," he gasped, then, " _Oh._ Ayel..." His arms tightened around me, viselike. "Ayel," he said again, and nuzzled at my ear. I heard his breath like thunder, uneven and powerful. He, too, seemed to struggle with words. I would have worried if not for his utterly inescapable hold on me.

I kissed the spot where I'd bitten, and Oren shuddered. "That was what I wanted," I confessed.

"Your fantasy," he murmured. It was not a question. "Your filthy fetish that you were too ashamed to tell me about because you thought I would judge you. You thought I would shame you, that you wanted me to make love to you." He sat up suddenly, staring down at me with an expression verging on shock. "Was this what you imagined that day on the bridge? This is what brought you off untouched?"

I nodded.

He sank down onto me, burying his face against my collarbone. "I was afraid it was someone else you fantasized about. Not any particular act that you wanted to do, but that you would rather be with anyone but me."

"No," I breathed. "Never anyone but you. Mandana called me _her'u_ because before you, I thought I was asexual. You're the only one I've ever wanted."

He rolled off me then with a groan, lying on his back with an arm flung over his eyes. "That day on the bridge. That was our first day together. Our _first day_ , Ayel." He sighed. "You idiot. When will you stop lying to me?"

I sat up, stung. "Oren—I haven't! What do you—?"

"You say you're not in love with me," he said, and I shut my mouth. "Our first day, and you got off to thoughts of me making love to you."

I had nothing to say to that. I didn't so much lie down again as I surrendered to gravity. Under the covers, I fumbled for his hand and caught at his fingers. "You asked for my hand," I whispered. "On our first day. Remember? Before I got off on the bridge, when I sucked you off in our—in your quarters. You wanted to hold my hand."

"Of course I did," Oren replied, in the same tone he'd used when he said _You idiot_. I smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the tags in advance of planned future chapters. I hope this doesn't confuse anyone too much—not everything that's listed in the tags has appeared in the story yet!


	13. Chapter 13

I woke up for a third time in Oren's arms. This time, I could tell he was awake, betrayed in the rhythm of his breath and the way he held me. I knew all this without opening my eyes, so I didn't bother to do so. "What time is it?" I murmured.

"Morning," he answered. "Early." His hands moved on my back, just slightly, reaffirming his grip.

I smiled and slid my thigh between his, finding him hard and patient, his pulse a steady throb through his flesh. "Oren," I whispered, "you have a choice. You can return to Mandana today, or you may stay here in this bed and make love to me forever. I won't let you leave."

"A year," he said. "You'll keep me for a year, until our ship calls us home."

I opened my eyes. "A year, then," I agreed, wondering what it would be like to finally return. So much had changed between us, and yet...

"Such an ultimatum almost sounds like you _want_ me to leave," Oren said. "Are you kicking me out of your bed, Ayel?"

"Never," I told him, and pressed my thigh lightly against his groin. "That would be cruel, to force you to leave in such a state."

"You're so good to me," he said, laden with irony.

"And yet it would be cruel to my sister, to keep you for the whole year."

He frowned. "Which is it, then? Do you want me to leave, or don't you?"

I sighed. "I am taking the moral high ground, can't you see? I would love to keep you, but I am putting my family first. You and Mandana need time together, too."

He shut his eyes. "It is difficult to think about going back to her, when your body is so warm in my arms."

I wriggled against him, drawing a low growl from him. "Perhaps we should take a cold shower, then."

His eyes snapped open. "The bathroom! I nearly forgot. We did the living room, the kitchen..."

I began to laugh. "I thought we abandoned that plan when you fucked me senseless last night and had to carry me to the bedroom."

"Not at all," he said. "We only altered it a little. Get up."

"You first," I retorted. Our legs were still entangled, and the contact between our bare flesh was more than pleasant.

His face darkened. "I gave you an order, Commander."

I knew he wasn't really angry, but some deeper part of me believed every bit of the façade. There was ingrained training that would not allow me to disobey, and I was on my feet, hands clenched at my sides, before I was aware of moving.

"Good," Oren said, nearly purring. He stood before me, looking me over with pride. "Ayel, you're perfect, my love."

I flushed. "I'm not," I whispered. Not perfect, not his love, not good. I was only as much as he would permit me to be.

"You _are_ ," he insisted. "I say you are." He kissed me, hard, hands gripping my shoulders and forcing me back, back. He walked me into the bathroom, kissing me and touching me all the way.

In the shower, he fucked me against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist. I had the vague, barely-formed thought that it didn't feel quite like it was supposed to—not physically, of course. Physically, it was as pleasurable as ever, but somehow, even with his bare chest pressed against mine, even with my hands tightly gripping his shoulders, even with him buried deep inside me, I felt distance grow between us. It was inexplicable, indescribable, and I could not bring myself to mention it for fear of widening it. I only clung to him as the water poured over us both, closed my eyes and let the pleasure take me.

Afterward, when we were both dried and dressed, he didn't say goodbye, and I didn't know how to. "We'll see each other soon," he promised me, lingering at the door.

"Are you sure you won't stay for breakfast?" I asked, knowing it was futile.

He smiled. "I would only end up eating you again. And don't forget, you were the one who suggested I leave." He reached out and caught me by the chin, holding me still as he looked at me for a moment. His eyes were magnetic; I couldn't have looked away if I'd wanted to.

He leaned in and kissed me, lightly, and then he left. I stood there, breathing, trying to remember how to be myself without him, hoping I wouldn't have to get used to it.

*****

Oren and I had different definitions of _soon_. It was several weeks until we met in person again. For the first few days, I was reluctant to leave my apartment in case he decided to pay me another impromptu visit, but as days passed and he did not appear, I began to relax, and venture outside, gradually reacclimating myself to life planetside.

We did communicate, of course, sending one another text and video messages several times a day, but live meetings were unforthcoming. I learned to sleep on my own; usually, I had pharmaceutical assistance, but the pharmacist assured me that the mild sedatives I purchased had very few side-effects. I knew that I would be able to sleep without the drugs again as soon as I was back in Oren's arms.

I caught up with a few old friends; I even met Mandana for drinks, twice, before I saw Oren again. It was very much like old times, with her; most of the time, we didn't talk about Oren, though he was always sort of present in the backs of our minds, the knowledge that the two of us had the same lover. He had seen her a few more times in those weeks, I learned from her. I was glad; every time she spoke of him, she seemed a little more in love.

I passed the time taking in the culture I'd missed in the months I was gone; I visited museums and art galleries, theatre performances and the holocinema. I had meals at the restaurants that hadn't been there the last time I had lived in the neighborhood. At the end of every day, I would return to my humble apartment, take my sleeping pills, and try not to miss Oren too much.

I didn't go out every day, of course. Some days, I cooked my own meals and spent the day reading or watching vidcast shows. It was on one of these days that a violent pounding on my front door jolted me out of my seat on the living room couch. Alarmed, I grabbed my disruptor before opening the door.

Oren stood in the hallway, stark naked, his cock hard and green and wet, his face murderous. I hastily lowered the disruptor. "Gods, Oren!" I exclaimed. "What—how did you get here like that? Where are your clothes?"

"Let me in," he demanded.

I stepped back from the threshold quickly, leaving room for him to pass. "You're lucky I was home!" I said. "What if someone saw you?"

"Shut up." He grabbed me by the throat, and I shut up as he pushed me across the room, pulling my clothes off as he went. He shoved me against the wall, not gently, and pinned me there with a look as he finished undressing me. He spun me around, then, and planted his palm between my shoulderblades, pressing me against the unyielding surface.

This was a side of Oren I had not seen in some time. I turned my face to the side, to keep from hurting my nose as he shoved at me, forcing my legs apart. He took me with no preparation, breaching me dry and thrusting in roughly. I gritted my teeth, my eyes watering; it burned, and I gasped, trying to catch my breath to speak, to ask what had put him in this mood, to protest the rough treatment—no, no, I would not object to that, not when my head was swimming with pleasurepain and I was so turned on I could barely remember my safeword.

He fucked me brutally, wordlessly, grunting and gasping his pleasure without so much as acknowledging mine, but we both knew I would get off anyway. It was more instinct than anything else at this point for him to hit my prostate on every thrust, force of habit driving his motions. There were tears on my cheeks, smearing wet on the wall as he jolted me against it, over and over.

I wasn't quiet; I moaned when it felt good and cried out when it hurt, and I gasped his name and begged pointlessly for mercy. I screamed aloud when I came, and Oren finished with a growl and a few more thrusts. He pulled out as roughly as he'd fucked me and caught me, hands firm on my shoulders, as my legs wobbled.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice somewhat less than gentle.

I looked back at him over my shoulder. "I'm not sure," I said. "What was this about, Oren?"

He scowled. "I have to draw a line," he said, and did not continue until I turned to face him, leaning back against the wall for support. I could feel his seed leaking from me; I still hurt, and I suspected I was bleeding. Oren dropped his gaze from mine. "I said your name," he muttered.

I looked at him, uncertain. "When?"

"I was with Mandana, I was _inside her_ and I said _your name!_ " He was angry, frustrated with me or himself, I wasn't sure. "I have to draw a line, Ayel! You are not my boyfriend!"

I recoiled, or would have if the wall at my back had left me anywhere to go. "I," I said, and stopped because I didn't know what else to say. He was right, of course. We had gotten too close, too affectionate for what we were to each other. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. He was right. "What should I do, sir? Should we stop seeing one another outside of work?"

"No," he said quickly. He lifted his hand, reaching toward my face for a moment, then hesitated. He took a handful of my hair instead, fingers curling against my scalp. "We'll keep fucking. I like fucking you, Ayel. You're a good..." He trailed off, seemingly searching for the word for what I was.

I wasn't his boyfriend, or his lover, or his partner. "Subordinate," I suggested. I was his first officer. I was below him, even when we weren't aboard ship.

"Yes," he said, relieved. "I just...needed to remember what you are to me. And what I am to you."

"My superior," I offered.

"Not a very good one," he said, and sighed. His hand in my hair tightened, pulling me forward, and he closed his eyes and let our foreheads touch. "I hurt you again," he murmured.

"Not badly," I told him. "I will heal. I have a tissue regenerator in the bathroom cabinet. Don't worry about me."

He winced and drew back. "I must worry about you. Not doing so is what makes me a bad superior. I've been selfish, these past weeks. I've spent too much time trying to serve my own needs, at the expense of yours."

I wished he would lean in again. I felt safe, contained between him and the wall. "In what way?" I asked.

"I've been trying to convince myself that by spending time with Mandana instead of you, I have been a good boyfriend," he said. "But you have lingered and grown in the back of my mind until you forced your way out when I meant to think of her."

His tone was nearly accusatory. _You would blame me for your loss of control, sir?_ "I never intended for that to happen," I said aloud. "If I have been on your mind, I clearly have not been satisfying your needs either."

He shook his head. "You are not to blame for my obsession with you, Ayel."

Obsession? Is that what he felt for me? Was that the emotion that caused him to reach for my hand, to visit my bedroom uninvited? "Why did you come here like this, today?" I asked. "I know you had to draw a line. Why did you come here naked and angry?"

He shoved me back abruptly, turning away and striding to the living room couch. He seemed to deflate as he sat down. "Mandana sent me," he said. "I said your name, and she climbed off me and said I had to work things out with you before we could continue, and she beamed me here."

I hesitated before following him to the couch. "She told you to come here and force—?" I began, and cut myself off. That wasn't what I meant to say. It wasn't what I thought. There was no doubt in my mind that he would have respected my safeword, if I had chosen to use it. I took a deep breath. "Did she tell you what to do with me when you got here?"

He shook his head. "I suppose she meant for me to get you out of my system," he said. His voice sounded empty.

I took a step forward, then another. I was reluctant to take a seat on the couch beside him, with my rear end as sore as it was; I knelt instead, and the pull on my muscles was less than ideal, but it was bearable. "Am I out of your system now, Captain?" I asked quietly. I didn't believe it, not after everything he had said, everything he had shown me. But I wanted to hear his answer.

"Ayel," he whispered. His eyes welled up, and his hand trembled as he reached for me again, this time cupping my cheek in his palm. "Never. You are an essential component in my system."

I had never seen him weep before. I turned toward his hand, kissing his palm, hoping futilely to offer some comfort. "I am glad of that," I admitted. "What will you tell Mandana?"

He shrugged helplessly. "That I failed." He slumped where he sat, disappointment in himself sapping his strength.

I brought a hand up to cover his, pressing it harder against my skin. "If I may, sir, it sounds like there has been a miscommunication between the two of you. You think your relationship has suffered for your attention to me. I believe Mandana thinks it has suffered for the lack thereof."

His head came up sharply. "What do you mean, Ayel?" he demanded.

"I mean that perhaps you wouldn't be thinking about me when you were with her if you spent more time actually _with_ me," I said, with effort. It was too bold, too assertive a demand to come from a subordinate on his knees.

Oren narrowed his eyes and pulled his hand from my grasp. "Convenient, that the solution to my problems results in more sex for you. This is your interpretation of Mandana's intent. How could you possibly know?"

I rocked back onto my heels and stood, wincing at the twinge in my backside. "I don't know that it will solve anything. But I know my sister. I know that if she did think you were spending too much time thinking about me, she wouldn't send you here. She would try to fuck it out of you. She would give you the most mind-blowing sex of your life until you'd forgotten any other partner you've ever had. She's quite capable of doing so. And yet, here you are, naked in my living room."

He looked at me as though I had presented him with a wildly innovative idea. "I get to have you both," he said wonderingly.

"That was always the plan," I reminded him. "Now, what are you going to tell Mandana?"

He lunged forward suddenly, his hand darting between my legs. I jumped back, startled, but it was only a brush of his fingertips against my inner thigh. When he pulled his hand back, there was green glistening on his fingers. The blood had begun to drip down my legs. He stared at the emerald smeared on his skin. "Let me heal you," he said.

"No," I replied. "I will do it myself. It's no trouble." I took a step further back. "What will you say to her?"

Almost absently, he lifted his fingers to his mouth and tasted my blood. "I will tell her that I hurt you, and she will punish me," he said. "And I will tell her that I love you, and that I will be spending more time with you."

I smiled involuntarily at the last, but quickly controlled it, schooling my features back to solemnity. "You should tell her you love her, too," I said. "Perhaps that will make her less inclined to..." I trailed off, his earlier words finally clicking into place. "Punish you?"

He blushed. "I," he said, and then, "It's not like that. She'll make me sleep alone for a few nights, until she forgives me. No worse than I deserve."

I frowned. "You said...she climbed off you and beamed you here. She was on top of you? She is...to you, as you are to me?"

" _No_ ," he answered firmly. "She's not. It's just a position, Ayel, it has little to do with how she sees me. It wouldn't change how I see you, either. You could top me, and I would enjoy it, and you would still be my subordinate."

I remembered our first day, his suggestions for my fantasies. _Think about bending me over the console and fucking me, or having me suck you off in the captain's chair._ "I couldn't," I said. "No. I couldn't do that." I felt vaguely ill to even consider it. That wasn't who I was; it was not a role I could ever play, to exert that sort of control over Oren. He had made those suggestions, because those were the kinds of things he wanted from me. Was it any wonder that I could not ask the same of him?

He cocked his head to the side, considering me. "What if I ordered you to?" he asked. "As your captain. What would you do then?"

I felt dizzy. Breathing was difficult now. "Then I would be forced to m-mutiny," I got out. My head swam, and I forced down the bile rising in my throat. It was the first time I'd said my safeword aloud since I'd told him what it was. I dropped to my knees, not out of respect for him, but simply because my legs would not support me anymore. My spine curved and I sagged forward until my forehead touched the floor.

"Gods, Ayel!" He was at my side, kneeling beside me, his hands hovering just short of touching me, just out of my line of sight. "I won't, Ayel, I won't ask it of you. Please—Ayel, stay with me, please, I promise I won't ask you to do that."

I pushed myself up off the floor, shakily, reaching clumsily for him. My hands landed on his thigh, his chest, his shoulder; I clung to him, and he enfolded me in his arms. "I'm all right," I said, my voice unsteady. He needed the reassurance as much as I needed his strength.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath ruffling my hair. "I'm so sorry, Ayel."

No, that wasn't right. He shouldn't be apologizing to me. It wasn't his fault I couldn't handle what he asked of me. I pulled away, finding the strength to stand. "It's all right, Oren," I told him. "You should go. I need—" My voice caught in my throat.

"I want to take care of you," he said softly. "I've hurt you. It's my responsibility to make it better."

I shook my head, backing away. "I need space. Right now, that's all I want from you. Please."

"All right," he said. "May I borrow some clothes?"

He looked small, kneeling on the floor beside where I had fallen, naked and alone. "Yes. Of course," I said. I jerked my head toward the clothes he had pulled off of me earlier, still lying on the floor. "Take those. Go and tell Mandana you love her."

He stood and picked up the clothes from the floor, dressing quickly. They didn't quite fit him, but they would do well enough to get him home. I turned away, retreating to my bedroom, expecting that he would show himself out. Just before I shut the door between us, I heard him say quietly, "I love you, Ayel."

I turned back to see him standing in the middle of the room, tears on his face. "I know," I told him.

I waited until I was sure he was gone before I went to my bathroom cabinet and found the tissue regenerator. I had none of the zinucaine ointment that Oren had used on me, our first night together when he had been too rough and cared for me afterward. I fought back memories of his gentle touches, the concern in his eyes. That wasn't what I needed from him, not right now.

Repairing torn flesh hurt, more than tearing it in the first place, each nerve firing as it reconnected, sending flashes of agony up my spine. I gritted my teeth as long as I could bear before giving in to screams, grateful that Oren was no longer there to hear me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to go this way. Sometimes my characters just don't behave.


	14. Chapter 14

Mandana called me a few hours later, when I was repaired and composed and dressed once more. "Are you all right?" she demanded, her face full of worry and a little bit of anger.

I sighed. "How much did Oren tell you?"

"He told me that he found your limits, and that he wasn't able to properly care for you," she said. "He told me that he wants to see you more often, and he thinks that will make him less hung up on you when he's not with you—which I agree with, and was the whole reason I sent him to you. He wouldn't tell me what he did to make you use your safeword, only that you did."

I flushed. "I didn't mean to," I said. "I only—I was trying to say that I would, if he—"

"No, you don't need to justify it!" she cut me off, her voice strident. "You do what you need to to protect yourself. No one may judge you for that, not your captain, not your family, no one." Her face softened. "He feels terrible about it. About pushing you too far, and about hurting you physically."

"Please tell him that I don't hold it against him," I said. "And I love him. I didn't say it when he left, I was too...I should have said it."

She nodded. "I'll let him know," she agreed. "But you should probably tell him yourself, as well. You two are okay, then? As a couple?"

I couldn't help a smile. "If we weren't, I wouldn't have let him wear my clothes."

She raised an eyebrow. "You'd have made him walk home naked?" Her lips twitched in amusement. "That would have been a sight."

"It was a sight when he showed up outside my door," I told her. "What if someone had seen him?"

"I may not have thought it through too well when I beamed him there," she admitted. "I should have at least let him take his shoes."

I winced. "Fuck. I didn't think of that. I should have given him some of mine. Did he hurt his feet, walking home?"

She shook her head. "He's fine, don't worry about it."

"I can't help but worry," I told her. "He is too important to me."

"I know," she said. "He's your captain."

"Yes," I said, and narrowed my eyes. "Do you understand what that means? Have you ever had a relationship like the one I have with him?"

She tilted her head to one side, considering. "No," she admitted, "but I've heard of them. He takes care of you, right? And in return, you..." She smirked a little. "Well, that's not really my business."

"It's not just sex," I told her, my face burning. "He knows he can trust me to serve his needs, physical and otherwise, just as he serves mine."

"Of course it's not just sex," she said, placating. "But you did say—rather vehemently, as I recall—that you weren't in love with him."

"Did I?" I muttered. "I may have been mistaken on that score. I think we both tried for a long time to convince ourselves that we weren't, but...I suppose things are different, planetside. There's not much point in pretending, when there's no command structure to complicate. When leave ends, maybe..." I trailed off, realizing I was beginning to ramble.

"You want to know what I think?" Mandana asked, not waiting for an answer. "I think you should worry about the future in the future. You and Oren love each other, whatever the nature of your relationship. What you have is something special. Just appreciate it, and don't worry about what _could_ be."

I absorbed her words quietly. She was right, of course, as she usually was. As I thought about it, though, I realized there was a more significant issue to consider. "When leave ends," I repeated. "What about you and Oren? What will you two do?"

Her smile faded a little. "I said, worry about the future—"

"No," I interrupted. "Mandana, I can't enjoy the present when I know that in a few months, you'll be miserable!"

"Miserable?" She raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a farfetched assumption, Ayel."

"You and Oren," I said. "You're getting pretty serious, aren't you? He spends more time at your apartment than he does at his own, these days. I know he loves you. When we have to return to work and you're still here finishing your dissertation, what will become of your relationship with him?"

She shrugged. "We'll make it work. Plenty of people have long-distance partners. It's not the end of the world."

I stared at her, astonished. "But you love him! How can you just—"

"Ayel!" she shouted, then clapped her hands over her mouth, evidently shocked by her own outburst. "Please stop," she continued, quieter. "I do love him. I've never felt the way I feel about him before, not about anyone. And I don't want to think about what we'll do when he has to leave again because it just—it hurts too much, to think about how it's going to hurt, and I don't know how I'll survive, Ayel, when just the thought of being apart makes me feel like I'm dying inside!" She had begun crying before she seemed to run out of words, and she clutched the end of her shawl to her mouth as though to smother her sobs.

I sat horrified, unable to think of what to say. I had done this to my _rinam_ , I had made her cry, and I had no idea how to fix it. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "Mandana, I'm sorry." I could not imagine what I would do in her place; I didn't have to. At the end of our year, Oren and I would still be together, closer than we were now, back in our cramped quarters on the _Narada_. I would be spared the suffering that Mandana would be forced to endure.

She had her eyes closed as if she could hold back the tears, but they leaked from under her eyelids and spilled down her cheeks. "It's not your fault," she mumbled into her shawl. "It's all right. I'm just being emotional—I don't know why, I've thought about this before and I've been all right..."

"You know, I think you're right," I said, knowing I sounded pathetic but determined to try anyway. "Lots of long-distance couples are perfectly fine. Oren loves you as much as you love him, and if anyone can make it work, it's the two of you."

"Do you really think so?" She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the shawl.

"Absolutely," I said, and I did believe it. I had seen their love for each other, obvious in their eyes.

From her end of the call, I heard a distant knocking, followed by Oren's voice. "Mandana? Are you all right? May I come in?" he called.

Mandana swiped at her face again with the cloth, erasing tear tracks. "Yes," she answered, and a moment later he came into view on my screen.

"What happened?" he asked her. He sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he glanced at me. "Ayel, did you upset her?" He narrowed his eyes.

"It's not his fault," Mandana told him, leaning against him. "We're fine. I was just being foolish."

"I doubt that," he said. "You are many things, my love, but a fool is not one of them." He bent his head to kiss her gently, then looked back at me. He hesitated a moment, expression uncertain, then asked, "Are _you_ all right?"

I nodded, smiling a little. "Yes, sir," I said softly. "I'm fine. Thank you." There were things I didn't want to say aloud in front of Mandana, layers to my thanks that I hoped he would hear nonetheless: thanks for his concern, and for the respect for my limits that he had shown when I asked him to; and thanks for visiting me in the first place, because regardless of how it had ended, spending time with him was always enjoyable. I owed him thanks, as well, for his obsession with me or whatever it was that caused him to think of me when he was with Mandana, causing her to send him back to me.

"Good," he answered, and there were layers to that as well; relief that I was all right, that our relationship hadn't suffered, and there was praise for me too—I, myself, was good, had done well in his estimation. I read these things in his tone, his eyes, the set of his mouth as he looked at me, and I felt myself blush as I smiled. "I'll see you soon," he promised.

Mandana nodded. "That you will," she agreed. "Don't wait until I have to send you there naked again."

He chuckled. "No, that's not a mistake I'll make a second time."

"I love you," I blurted, far too late. In my mind's eye, I saw him standing by my door, waiting for my response.

"I know, Ayel. I love you, too," he said.


	15. Chapter 15

"I'm thinking we should make this a regular thing," Oren said. He trailed his fingers through my hair as I rested against him, listening to his heartbeat. The sweat was cooling on my skin, and I blindly reached for the blanket to cover myself before I began to get gooseflesh.

"What, the sex?" I asked. "Isn't it already a regular thing?"

He chuckled. I heard it from inside his chest, deep and rumbling. "I mean going out. Not that I don't love just coming over and fucking you, but I like taking you out, as well."

I lifted my head to look at him. "You want to treat me to dinner every time? Don't you think that's a bit..." I struggled to find the word. "Boyfriendly?"

"Not at all." He pushed me off him and rolled me onto my back in a single motion, covering me with his body. "If you were my boyfriend, I'd let you order your own meal." He dragged his hands down my arms, wrapping his fingers around my wrists and forcing them up over my head. I didn't need to be told to keep them there. "If I were your boyfriend, I might even let you choose where we go. But I'm not, and I won't." I could feel him stiffening against my hip once more. "You are my subordinate, and you will go where I want you to go, and eat what I want you to eat."

"Yes, sir," I said, suppressing a shiver of delight. I shifted beneath him, hooking one leg over his hip. What he was asking of me was only what we had already done tonight. He had taken me to the restaurant with his hand resting on the back of my neck, keeping me at his side—as though I had any wish to be anywhere else. It had made me feel safe, secure in his grip. He hadn't allowed me to look at the menu, choosing my food and drink for me. It had been delicious.

Afterward, he had taken me back to my flat and made me open myself up for him, stretching myself on my fingers until I was ready, and then he had ordered me to ride him. It was far from my first choice of positions, and I was nervous as I sank down on his cock, enough that I would have gone soft if not for the look of sheer bliss on Oren's face and the sinful sounds of pleasure issuing from his mouth. He had held my hips as I began to move, guiding me, and it was better under his control, even more so when he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me down to kiss him. With the change in angle, he could brace his feet on the bed and thrust up into me, his other hand between us, stroking me to completion. I only had to hold on and ride him to orgasm.

Now he nuzzled at my neck, postcoitally affectionate even as he nudged at my hole again, already wanting more. He pressed little nibbling kisses up the line of my jaw, licked the edge of my ear and sucked at the point of it until I squirmed at the tickling of his tongue. He pushed into me then, breaching me in one smooth thrust, the slide made easy by the remains of our first round. "Ayel," he breathed, "I'm so lucky to have you."

I blushed. "And I, you, sir," I answered.

He lowered his head and kissed me deeply, moaning into my mouth. The motion of his hips was even, controlled, a smooth rhythm that I matched instinctively, rolling my pelvis to meet his thrusts. Part of me wanted to touch him, to feel the way the muscles in his back flexed as he moved above me, but he had placed my hands above my head and I knew better than to move them without permission.

It was unhurried, each of us already satisfied, our reactions slow. His skin was hot against mine, and the blanket slipped off us again, unneeded, as we moved. A heat grew in my belly like a banked fire, smoldering low, stoked by the friction between us. It felt as though we could have lasted forever like that, our bodies entangled in one another, needing nothing more than what we had.

It changed in a moment, as Oren broke the kiss and paused in his thrusts, looking down at me with heat in his eyes. "Ayel," he said, his voice low, and I felt it shift from our slow lovemaking into something else, something with the potential for danger.

A shiver ran through me. "Yes, Oren?" I couldn't keep a tremor from my voice, betraying my excitement.

He lowered his head to whisper in my ear. "I want you to bite me."

It wasn't the idea of the act itself that kicked me from autopilot to overdrive. It wasn't the knowledge of how it would feel—Oren's skin against my tongue, the heat of his flesh, the pounding of his pulse against my lips. It was the memory of what it did to him that had me leaking onto my belly, my mouth watering before I even closed my teeth on his neck, my hands flexing with the desire to grasp him as I obeyed his wishes and gave him what he needed.

He did not disappoint. The sound he made was involuntary, an animalistic grunt of lust, and he fucked into me hard, desperate motion driving his hips. I trembled with arousal as I worried at the skin between my teeth. "Fuck!" Oren hissed, "Yes, Ayel! Harder!"

I tightened my jaw, just a fraction, wanting to obey but reluctant to do lasting harm, and was rewarded with a long moan. I felt him shudder all over, muscles tensing. "Leave a mark," he gasped. "Come on. Do it." I sucked at the skin under my mouth, hard, and bit down more firmly, feeling the heat of his blood as it pooled beneath his skin. He gasped, a desperate sound that had me suddenly, irrevocably teetering on the edge of oblivion, and I released my hold on his neck.

"Oren," I got out, "I'm going to—"

"Come on, then," he growled. He tensed, throbbing inside me, and I clung to him as we came together, entwined and entangled.

When we caught our breath, when I could speak again, I asked him—I meant to ask, _Will you stay the night?_ What actually emerged from my mouth, though, was instead, "Was I good?"

Oren gave me a compulsive squeeze. "Oh, Ayel. You always are. Why must you ask?"

I closed my eyes, letting myself be held. "It's nice to hear," I admitted. "And I might not always be."

"You will always be," he argued.

I turned in his arms, rolling onto my side and pulling him with me, his chest to my back. His hand found mine, and I let him intertwine our fingers over my heart. "Stay?" I murmured.

His answer was in the hesitation before he spoke. "Mandana has asked me to move in with her," he said softly. "Most of my possessions are already there. They just sort of...ended up there, by happenstance."

I nodded slightly. "You'll go home to her, then," I acknowledged. "What do you think she'll say when she sees that bruise I gave you?"

He tightened his arms around me and pressed his mouth to the back of my neck. I felt him grin. "I don't know," he admitted. "Shall we find out?" A moment later he had released me to grab my commpad from beside the bed.

"Oren!" I protested, yanking the covers up to my waist. "Don't call her! We're naked!"

He raised an eyebrow at me, the channel already open. "She's seen me naked before," he pointed out. "And you, for that matter."

"Not like this!" I hid my burning face behind a handful of blanket. "Not when I'm in bed with someone! For fuck's sake, Oren, there's spunk on your—oh, gods." I cut myself off as Mandana answered the call.

She looked at the two of us in silence for a moment, taking in our disheveled states, my green face, and, yes, the bite mark on Oren's neck. "Oren," she said at last, sternly, "are you tormenting my brother?"

He gave her that beautiful smile that always made me melt; I didn't doubt its efficacy on her as well. "That's hardly my intent," he said. "We only wanted to know what you think of his handiwork." He turned his head to the side, stretching his neck to show off the blooming dark-green bruise.

"Very nice. And what do you call that?" Mandana asked, her tone more amused than anything.

"He asked me to do it," I protested, muffling my voice with the blanket. "His idea. He wanted it."

"It's a love bite," Oren said proudly. "You're damn right I wanted it."

"That's sweet, Ayel," she said. "Stop trying to hide. You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

" _Love bite_ ," I muttered. "A _hevam_ term for a _klivam_ act."

"One that your captain asked of you," Mandana pointed out. "Did you think I would be upset that you marked him? He isn't my property. If he wants to tattoo your name on his arse, I'm not going to stop him."

"Well, I don't know about that," Oren said. His voice was even, controlled, and I tensed. "I'll be home soon, my love." He gave her an affectionate gesture, which she returned.

"Take whatever time you need to discipline your officer," she said, and my breath caught. _What?_ "Just make sure you take care of him this time." With a nod, she ended the call.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I had done something to change his mood, something that Mandana had caught but I hadn't. Oren's eyes were flinty when he turned to me, hard and holding fire if I were only to give him the opportunity to let it out. He was angry but controlled, and excited with it.

"Thank you for giving me an excuse," he said, dangerously soft, like the purr of a _sseikea_ on the hunt. "I have told you how I feel about you using slurs like that, have I not? You were warned."

My eyes widened. _Oh._ "I should have chosen my words more carefully," I murmured. " _Rihannsu_ are not superior to other races."

He smiled then, coldly amused, and grabbed me by the hair. He dragged my face close to his, nearly close enough to kiss. "You think you can escape punishment by admitting your mistake?" He barely brushed his lips against mine, a cruel tease. "I'm leaving now. You will stay here and think about what you said, and why it was wrong. You will not touch yourself, or do anything to cause yourself pleasure. You will not come until I give you express permission. And I will know if you disobey, Ayel." His hand tightened against my scalp, and I winced at the pull. "Tomorrow evening I will be back. When I arrive, you will be slick and open for me, and dressed to go out."

I blinked, confused by his instructions. "You're going to take me out somewhere to fuck me?"

Again the faint brush of his mouth, leaving me wanting. "Yes. To somewhere where you can reflect further on your choices." He released me suddenly, leaving my scalp stinging.

I watched him as he dressed himself, aching for him. Knowing that we'd fucked twice already that evening meant nothing to my body, keyed up and wanting whatever he offered; knowing that I would have no release until he gave permission the next night only made it worse. I lay on my back, uncovered, trying to will my erection to subside.

Oren paused with his hand on the door. "Remember my orders," he said. "If you disobey, I will be very disappointed."

"Yes, sir," I answered, strained.

"Good night, _a'rhea_ ," he said, and left me tingling with anticipation.


	16. Chapter 16

I lay curled up on my side after he left, trying to get my mind out of my body. My cock, throbbing between my legs, was impossible to ignore. I lay in the fetal position, my palms pressed together until I realized that might violate Oren's edict against touching myself. I yanked my hands apart, snarling aloud in frustration.

My bed still smelled like Oren, like sex, and I couldn't sleep. I rolled over, pressing my face into the sheets, and dragged in a deep breath. His scent was soothing, somehow, even in that empty bed with my skin too hot and the blankets too cold. I felt my pounding heart begin to slow. Finally, the tension in my muscles began to ease; my body relaxed, my erection fading at last.

Even with my body somewhere near equilibrium, I could not quiet my mind. My thoughts roiled, turning over Oren's punishment for me, wondering what he could have in store. Refraining from touching myself, I could understand, but the rest? He clearly had something more elaborate than a simple spanking in mind. He had expressed a desire, in the past, to find out whether I could reach orgasm just from the spanking; whether we both could, as I suspected. With only the right sensory stimulations, we could achieve anything...

It was no good thinking about this. I hurled myself out of bed, desperately grabbing for my sleeping pills. I would never be able to sleep with my mind so occupied, not without the drugs. I swallowed them dry and fell back into bed, exhausted, to wait for them to take effect.

He wanted me dressed to go out. Somewhere public, then; somewhere classy, with a dress code. And yet he was planning to fuck me, wanted me ready for him, wanted me lubed up and stretched open so he could take me without resistance. Was he going to have me in public, let strangers watch as he pounded me, made me scream for mercy for all to hear? Was he going to expose my shame to the world?

I cringed, trying to get away from those thoughts. Suddenly it seemed a lot less exciting, a lot more terrifying. This wasn't the fun kind of punishment. Not being allowed to masturbate was the least of my concerns. I felt sick to my stomach and groaned, curling in on myself again, hoping I wouldn't throw up the pills I'd just taken. How could Oren do this to me?

I knew I'd done wrong. I realized my mistake. I could wipe those words from my vocabulary, abandon all my preconceived notions of what those races were like, rewrite my thoughts. These extreme measures were unnecessary. I didn't need to be publically humiliated. Oren had to know that. He had to know that he didn't have to do this to me.

I was sitting up, reaching for my commpad before I realized how stupid I was being. I was crying, sweating and shaking, and calling him now would do no good at all. It would only serve to get me punished worse, and at this point, I wasn't at all sure I would enjoy that.

I had my safeword. I knew I would be able to use it if I had to. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. I didn't want to have to use it; the last time I'd said it, it had left me feeling horrible, wretched, sick with myself. I trusted Oren, though. He wouldn't push me to that point again. He would respect my limits.

I had told him, repeatedly, that I had no limits. Finding out that that wasn't true had not been fun. He'd found a limit by accident. What if he thought that was the only one? What if he thought I could stand anything but that? He might not even be considering that I wouldn't be willing to do this.

My commpad was still in my shaking hands. I didn't want to call him, didn't want him to see me like this, but I opened a text pane and typed, _I don't want you to punish me in public._

It was only a few moments before he replied. _I will not hurt you, fuck you, or expose you in public. May I touch you otherwise?_

I hesitated before sending back, _Yes._ And then, after further consideration, _You can kiss me too if you want._

He replied, _Thank you_ , followed by _I love you_. That was the last thing I saw before the medication finally took hold and I sank into the blessed relief of sleep.

*****

I woke up in a panic, feeling like I had overslept, or forgotten a deadline. The covers were tangled around me, constricting, and I flailed for a moment as I tried to free myself. I kicked my commpad off the bed by accident, reflexively lunged for it, and fell to the floor, my legs still trapped by the sheets.

I groaned aloud, faintly bruised and angry with myself. This was not a good start to the day. I picked up the offending commpad, checking that it was undamaged, and flicked the screen on. Oren's last message was still up, unanswered. It was like a drug, instantly calming, and I smiled as I typed a belated response.

_I love you too._

I noticed the time display in the corner of the screen after I sent my reply. It was early, still. I had most of the day to prepare myself for whatever Oren had planned. He might not even be awake yet. I picked myself up, straightened the covers, and got back into bed.

The commpad pinged with another message. _You didn't sleep long. Are you all right?_

I settled onto my side, resting the edge of the pad against my pillow as I typed back. _I suppose I'm excited about tonight._ My heart beat faster just thinking about it; anticipation, and nervousness, wondering what he had planned. Had he had to change his plans, given the limits I had presented him with last night?

_I am looking forward to hearing you scream._ A jolt ran through me, reading his words. It was startling to think that he had expectations about tonight, as much as I did. He was going to get off on whatever he was going to do to me. My body was tense, aroused, and I found my mind frustratingly blank as I searched for the words with which to answer him. I stared at the pad, trembling, trying to shape my turbulent emotions into language.

_I confess I am scared, as well._ The words appeared on my screen, though I was not cognizant of typing them. I sent the message with a shaking finger.

It was several moments before he replied, and my stomach was in knots by the time he called. "Ayel," he said. He spoke softly, but his voice was as strong as ever, reassuring. I recognized Mandana's living room behind him. She must have still been asleep in their bedroom. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course, Captain," I said immediately. It was a tremendous help, just seeing him, hearing him, addressing him properly. The tremors began to ease.

He nodded in approval. "Good. I want you to know that what you told me last night, about being in public? I wasn't planning to do that to you."

I made an involuntary sound, a sort of squeak in my throat, then swallowed hard. "I," I began, and couldn't think of how to continue. Part of me wanted to apologize for having limits, but I knew he would not accept my apology. I kept my mouth shut.

"I want to stretch your limits, not break them," he said, as though reading my mind. "You can use your safeword at any time. You know that, don't you? I won't think less of you for it."

I nodded. "Thank you," I whispered.

He smiled then. "Cheer up, Ayel. Tonight is going to be fun." He paused, considering. "Fun for me, at least. For you, I think, educational. Very educational."

"I look forward to learning my lesson," I said. The words tumbled out of me, one after the other, inevitable. It was the only thing I could have possibly said in that moment.

"Good boy," he answered, and I shivered again, but not from fear. "Be ready for me at sundown." He moved his hand slightly in a teasingly intimate gesture before he disconnected the call.

I couldn't go back to sleep now. I lay in bed, fully alert, and tried to clear my mind, to relax, to let my erection fade again. The sex with Oren the previous evening had probably lessened my frustration, but I had nevertheless fallen asleep unsatisfied. Waiting until Oren gave permission for my release seemed like an impossible challenge.

What could he possibly have in mind? He wanted me lubed, and dressed. He was going to fuck me, obviously, and he was going to take me out in public—but he'd promised not to fuck me in public. One, then the other, perhaps? He had specifically asked for permission to touch me in public, though how that could be a punishment if he wasn't going to hurt me, I could not figure out. I was not imaginative enough, I concluded; I could not think of what he could have planned.

This train of thought was counterproductive. Rather than diminishing, my erection was now leaking. I whimpered aloud, my hands twitching with the urge to touch myself. Oren would know; he would be so disappointed if I didn't obey him. He might even punish me more. I tried to remember that that was a disincentive. He would surely find a way to make punishment less pleasurable for me, if I failed to meet his expectations.

I levered myself out of bed, my swollen cock aching between my legs, and headed for the bathroom. I hesitated outside the shower; the water was a temptation, one that I wasn't sure I could afford. It was all too easy to imagine standing under the spray, the hot water sluicing over my skin, sensation setting my body alight. I would never be able to keep my hands off myself. Oren would be so disappointed if I gave into temptation. Resigned, I switched the shower to sonic, disabling the water function.

The rest of the day passed in similar fashion. Every action I took was incomprehensibly titillating, senselessly arousing. I couldn't bear to touch anything. My hands felt like my mouth did after I had been kissing Oren for hours, swollen and sensitive; I couldn't even dress myself after my shower, the textures of the cloth under my fingers too acute to touch. I seated myself on the bare floor of my living room, naked, my legs crossed, hands opened at my sides. With my eyes closed, I tried to quiet my body and mind.

This was ridiculous. I had gone longer than this without sex before, far longer. Somehow, though, not being allowed pleasure combined with the anticipation of Oren's plans for me tonight was enough to drive me mad. It took hours of silent, unmoving concentration before I was able to bring my body under control, to reduce my pounding heart to a more normal pace, to cool my heated blood enough to set out clothes for the evening. I even managed to keep from getting hard again, until it was time to prepare myself as Oren had instructed.

This was torture. He must have known; he must have planned this to be part of my punishment, ordering me to slick up my hands and finger myself, to stretch myself open so I would be ready for him. I moaned aloud, thrusting my fingers into my body. I tried to be efficient, not to let myself luxuriate in the sensation, but it was near impossible to ignore, particularly when I accidentally brushed my prostate. I cursed aloud, my cock twitching, and withdrew my fingers. This would have to be enough; I was slick enough, I was sure, and I could take whatever he could give me.

I pulled my fingers out and carefully washed my hands before dressing myself. My cock was painfully hard, and it was difficult to fasten my trousers over it, but I managed with effort. They were black, one of the few tailored items I owned, paired with a dark green silk tunic. I checked my appearance in the mirror, running a comb through my hair as the sun set outside.

There was a knock on my door mere moments later. Heart pounding, I made my way to my front door and opened it. Oren stood in the hallway, dressed in finer clothes than mine but of similar style. There was something tucked under his arm; the hallway was not well-lit, and I could not tell what it was, but I hardly cared right now. I stepped back from the threshold and he came inside, his eyes never leaving mine. His expression was inscrutable, showing nothing and promising everything, and I could barely breathe.

"Ayel," he said, his voice soft. He set the package under his arm down on the arm of the couch—it was two packages, I saw now, both about the size of my hand, one flat, the other thick and rectangular. I was curious, but not enough to divert my attention from Oren as he reached out and took my face in both hands, holding me still. "Are you all right?"

I swallowed hard, opening my mouth to answer as I realized I had no idea how to respond. I didn't know if I was all right—what did he mean by all right? My breath shuddered between my lips. "Oren," I said. "I..."

"I was concerned about you, given the messages you sent me," he said, his voice soft. "We don't need to do this if you're not ready for it."

"I'm ready," I blurted. My throat was thick; tears stung my eyes, but I found myself frustrated, almost angry. "I spent all day getting ready. Preparing myself for this. I won't waste that."

He kissed me on the mouth, hard and quick, then brushed his lips against my forehead before releasing me and taking a step back. "Good," he said. "Good, Ayel. It pleases me to hear you say that." He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Did you follow all my instructions?"

I nodded, lowering my eyes. "I haven't come since you left me. I opened myself up like you said."

"And how was that?" he asked. His voice was a quiet drawl.

"Difficult," I admitted.

"Show me," he said softly. "Take off your pants."

My fingers fumbled on the fastenings of my trousers, in my haste. They dropped to my ankles, and I stood naked from the waist down, awaiting inspection. I glanced up at Oren; he was regarding my cock, flushed and erect, the tip glistening. He looked pleased, almost predatory.

He sank slowly to his knees in front of me, one hand wrapping around my shaft. He guided my cock to his lips, and his tongue flicked out, licking the slick from the head. I made a strangled sound, my hands instinctively moving to grip his hair. "Oh gods," I gasped. "Oren!"

He took the warning for what it was, or perhaps he had only intended that one taste. In my state, I couldn't bear much more. He let go of me with a smirk, rocking back onto his heels and standing up again. "Get on the couch," he said. "Face the back."

I shuffled over to the sofa, hindered by the pants around my ankles, and knelt on the cushions, resting my arms on the back of the couch. I heard him move behind me, then his hand was on my arse, strong fingers gripping me. He dragged his thumb up my crack, testing. "All ready for me, aren't you?" he murmured. "Good boy." I shivered.

He picked up the thicker of the packages he'd brought, and opened it. "I've brought you a present," he said. "What do you think?" I glanced at it; it took me a moment to focus, as worked up as I was. When I finally identified the tapered silicone object he held, I moaned aloud, my head falling to rest against the back of the couch. I shifted my knees, spreading my legs wider.

"Please," I begged. I pushed my hips back, impatient; after spending the whole day aching, I _needed_ that silicone plug more than breath. "Oren, please!"

He chuckled, steadying me with one hand resting on my back as he nudged the blunt tip of the plug against my hole, pushing it slowly inside. "My gods, Ayel, look at you. So eager for it." The plug slid home, its base nestled between my cheeks. "How does that feel?"

I shifted, testing it. The end pressed against my prostate with every motion, and I shut my eyes, breathing hard. "I could come from this," I said.

He caught me by the back of the neck, dragging me back against him. "But you won't, will you?" he said. "You remember your promise to me."

I opened my eyes, looking up at him. "Not until you give permission," I said. "I remember."

"Good." He smiled, giving me a gentle shove forward again. "Get dressed. We have an appointment to keep."

I scrambled to pull my trousers back on. My erection tented the cloth obscenely, and with the exquisite bursts of pleasure from the toy inside me, I knew I would soon be sporting a damp patch of precome. "You're taking me out in public like this?" I said weakly. It wasn't over my limits, but...people would see me.

"Not quite." Oren picked up the other package he'd brought. "You're worried about what people will think, again," he said. "Don't worry. They won't be staring at your cock." He opened the flat box; inside, tissue paper rustled.

"What will they be staring at, then?" I asked, barely above a whisper. My eyes flickered to his neck where I had bitten him, but the mark was hidden by his collar tonight.

His lips twitched in a slight smile. "Hold out your hands, _e'lev._ "

My eyes widened as he pulled the gloves out of the paper. They were smooth, soft leather, dyed blood-green. My heart pounded in my throat. I had never worn gloves before; well, there were many things I had done with Oren that I had never done before, but _gloves_ were a whole new level of kink. And he was going to take me out in public with my hands covered, constricted, leather-bound. A whimper escaped me as I held out my hands to him. "Yes, sir."

He couldn't keep from smirking as he drew the gloves up over my fingers. They were lined with something soft, the fabric just textured enough to be stimulating, and I stifled a moan. They fit snugly enough that when Oren brushed his fingers across my palm, I felt the touch on every part of my hand. I closed my fingers convulsively around his, and he chuckled. "Oh, I like this," he said. "You, gloved, are like a whole different animal."

"No," I blurted. "I'm still the same, Oren. I'm still yours."

"I never doubted it," he said, and pulled me to him, kissing my forehead. "Let's go, _a'rhea_ , we have a reservation."


End file.
